


Fields of Gold

by Rogercat



Series: Elia Martell in Rohan [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient History, Anti Rhaegar Targaryen, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon - Book, Crossover, Dorne, Elia Martell Deserves Better, Elia Martell Lives, Elia Martell-centric, F/M, Family History, Family Reunions, Father Figures, Fatherhood, Female Character of Color, Gen, Gondor, Growing Up, Lyanna Stark Bashing, Lysa is sane, Married Couple, Minor Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Motherhood, Mystery, Not Lyanna Friendly, Not Rhaegar friendly, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Canon, Rhaegar Targaryen Bashing, Rhûn, Robert and Cersei have children together, Rohan, Royalty, Secret Relationship, Tywin is NOT as smart as he wants to be, World Travel, anti R+L, anti lyanna stark, not for lyanna fans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 85,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: Sequel to Foreign Lands:After marrying Théodred and becoming his wife as the future queen consort of Rohan, ensuring that Rhaenys and Aegon will never grow in the shadow of Rhaegar, Elia finds not only their newly formed family become more aware of the threat from Mordor, a ancient mystery about her ancestor Morgan Martell is also discovered by her father and brothers back home in Dorne
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen & Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Boromir (Son of Denethor II) & Faramir (Son of Denethor II), Boromir (Son of Denethor II) & Théodred, Doran Martell/Mellario of Norvos, Elia Martell & Aegon VI Targaryen, Elia Martell & Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Elia Martell/Théodred (Tolkien), Jaime Lannister/Original Female Character(s), Khamûl (Tolkien)/original characters, Lysa Tully Arryn/Original Character(s), Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister, Selyse Baratheon/Stannis Baratheon, Éomer Éadig & Théoden Ednew, Éomer Éadig & Éowyn & Théodred, Éowyn & Théoden Ednew
Series: Elia Martell in Rohan [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1298606
Comments: 392
Kudos: 148
Collections: Southern Renaissance (Dorne Renaissance)





	1. The Sandship

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I have finally chosen the idea of the relationship between Ihsan and Oberyn being a less strained version of that between Indiana Jones and his father Henry Jones Sr, for the sake of how different they react on things in their lives. // Rogercat

As the Martell family had promised Elia in the last letter they sent to her before the wedding, next to no one outside them knew that she had remarried, not even anyone else in Dorne for the sake of this not leaking out to untrustworthy people. If it came out in the rest of Westeros that Elia had married into another royal family, the supporters of the royal Baratheon dynasty would view her new marriage as a threat, Tywin Lannister even more so as his own daughter Cersei was the current queen consort of Westeros and mother of the heirs to Robert Baratheon. 

“As if the remaining four Targaryen heirs would even be able to join up to reclaim the Iron Throne in the future…my two grandchildren are in a different world, and Viserys and little Daenerys are in exile somewhere in Essos,” Ihsan thought for himself, closing a thick old book shut and tried to not cough from the dust flying up in the air. 

It truly was a endless task to try and find any clue to what could form a magical connection between their world and Arda, so they could finally see Elia again. Even Ihsan, who was proud to say that he could read very ancient texts and roughly understand how they would be spoken. 

“And I can not request more ancient books from our bannermen, unless they start wondering if I have started to get feeble-minded due to my age…”

  
  


But as he was about to cross over the courtyard, Ihsan's glare fell on the Sandship, the ancient keep of House Martell that was said to have been built by Morgan Martell himself when he had gained a dominion over a strip of coastland fifty leagues long and ten leagues wide of his own here in Dorne. The former Prince consort knew that the most ancient parts of it was closed off since generations ago, but what if…

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Oberyn knew that something was not normal when one of his older daughters came to tell him that his father had entered their painting room, borrowing a few large brushes and then left again with a burning touch despite it being in the middle of day at the moment. Worse, Ihsan was seen picking up a hoe on the way to the Sandship. Therefore he chose to follow after Ihsan in case something happened.

  
  


For being a such ancient keep, the Sandship was surprisingly deep if you followed the worn stone stairwells down, with its final cellar being no less than 97 meters below the surface. As a child, Oberyn had not been the first among later-generations of Martells to claim that it felt like entering a tomb instead of a keep. 

“Father? Father, what are you doing?” 

In response, Oberyn was alarmed by the sound of something cracking not far from him. When he turned around the last corner, he saw Ihsan using the hoe on the wall in front of him. 

“I took a closer look here earlier, and I noticed that there is something strange with this wall. It is not well seen because of the darkness, but when I knocked with my closed fist, a piece of dried-up plaster fell off. Look here!” 

Ihsan was right. The wall that was opposite to the door frame, seemed to have been plastered over, as if there was something there meant to be hidden. Where his father had been hacking away pieces of the plaster, Oberyn could see very faded letters. 

“It is the same as the most ancient text I have found in the old books so far, and I want to see what it says.” 

  
  


Dashing off to find a hoe of his own, Oberyn started to help his father. Once the plaster had been removed almost everywhere, they could see how the whole wall was covered in the text, like it was something important. Sadly some of the words had faded with age, and it was extremely difficult to read. 

“To find the secret that lays hidden, on the request of my...mother, the path to the final resting place of…”

Cursing softly over that his eyesight had gotten weaker with age, Ihsan took a step back in a attempt to see if he could read the last words closest to the floor better. Only for him to suddenly step on a trigger of some kind, and the equally surprised Oberyn to suddenly proceed to tumble backwards down a entire stairwell as he lost his balance.

“ **_Daaaaaaad!!_ ** ” a less than pleased Oberyn called from somewhere in the darkness below, using the family word he had not used since early childhood, or in the rare moments now in adulthood when he allowed himself to be a little boy in need of his parents. 

“By the spears of Dorne, I am so terribly sorry, son!!” Ihsan responded in fear that his youngest child could have gotten injured, and hurried down, fearing some of the worst things that could happen now. There was a very real reason to legends was speaking of deadly traps for possible grave robbers who wanted their greedy hands on the valuable grave goods buried with some ancient king or lord. 

  
  


Thankfully Oberyn was not hurt by the tumble down the unexpected stairwell, but father and son agreed that it was enough craziness for this day, since it simply had ended up in a new underground chamber that was empty of anything. Whatever the secret stairwell had been made for, perhaps Morgan Martell simply did not want any of his descendants to accidentally bump into his burial chamber and disturbing his last rest. 

“Stay with Ellaria for the rest of the day, alright? I will ask the palace guards to ensure that the girls are not doing something in there that could result in some form of injury when we adults are not there with them.”

That was a logic Oberyn could not refuse, despite him feeling rather tempered by whatever other mysteries that the Sandship could hold. In that way, he was indeed the son of his father. 


	2. The city of Minas Tirith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting with old friends and new ones

Late summer of year 3009, at the border between Gondor and Rohan: 

It had not come as a surprise for Théodred that there was a invitation from Minas Tirith for Elia and himself, the official reason being that with Rohan as the close ally of Gondor, surely the future King of Rohan wanted to present his wife for the Steward of Gondor. With the news of his marriage, and to a rather mysterious bride on top of that, the current Steward Denethor II might want to see Elia with his own eyes and try to figure out if she might hold less than honest reasons to marry him. 

“At least Boromir sent a small warning about it only days after the wedding, at least…” 

Right now, Théodred and Elia was traveling to Gondor, escorted by half the men counted in his Éored, together with Rhaenys, Aegon, three of her Rohirric ladies-in-waiting and a few of the shieldmaidens trained by Laywyn back home. They had brought the children along, as Boromir had sent a letter about that his youngest cousin Lothíriel and other children among the nobility of Gondor would also be there. 

“As long as the Steward is not acting like my previous father-in-law, I think I can manage him. If nothing else, we can at least enjoy time with Boromir.”

Elia knew that since the nobles of Gondor would not know about her actually being from a different world, she would likely be viewed as being from Harad, just as Théodred originally had done. Since it would be easier to pretend that her false origin story was the actual truth, and knowing that Boromir would not break their trust about the truth, they agreed to go with that. 

“Are we going to meet important people on this journey?” Rhaenys asked from where she and Aegon was sitting in front of their parents, as the group had chosen to travel without a wagon for faster speed and using two pack horses for the bags of clothes and food. Her stepfather looked down on her quickly. 

“Yes. Boromir's father, the Steward of Gondor, wishes to meet with your mother and me, as we are the future King and queen consort of Rohan.”

Rhaenys frowned in the way she tended to when she found a answer to a question rather odd, or not making sense.

“Steward? Not king?” 

Of course, she knew her step-grandfather to be King of Rohan, and her maternal uncle Doran being a Prince, so her confusion about Gondor not being ruled by a King despite being a  _ kingdom, _ was understandable. 

“A steward is an official who is appointed by the legal ruling monarch to represent them in a country. The royal line died out a long time ago, and while we knows that a side-line exists, no one have claimed the throne of Gondor yet.”

Knowing that Rhaenys was still a little too young for learning about that the remaining descendants actually hailed from a female line, Théodred tried to explain it in a easier way. 

“Was there no princess to claim the throne as reigning Queen?” 

“There was a attempt, as far I know from studying the history of Gondor when I grew up, but it seems to have been some...trouble with that claim as she had married into the royal house of a northern realm.” 

As usual, Aegon mostly listened as his sister and stepfather talked. Even at the age of five years, he were still not very talkable and seemed to prefer only speaking when it was needed. Still, Elia saw the difference between her son and his sire, it could simply be that Aegon was a quiet personality yet thankfully not in the same manner as Rhaegar, he did spend time with other children when they played outside in fine weather and even had been spotted to try giving first-aid to a playmate over this passing summer when a play got a little too wild for such young ones, even if it was merely holding hands or hugging as comfort until that a adult arrived. 

“Aegon, would you like to have a look on the first-aid kit later when we make camp for the night check so we have everything still with us?” 

Being a warrior was important in the culture of Rohan, yes, but healers were highly respected as well because they often had the skills to save lives, which was why at least four members of each Éored had to know more than just basic first-aid if their companions ended up injured in battle or just plain accidents that could happen in times of peace. And having just one healer in the group could lead to disaster if said healer was killed and there was no one else able to save the other men from what otherwise could have been non-fatal injuries if they were treated quickly enough. 

Personally, with how different the previous Targaryen kings named Aegon had been both in character and their respective reigns, Elia somehow liked how it sounded with her son possibly being called “Aegon the Healer” as contrast. Even if her Aegon never became King of Westeros, it would still be good for him to know a craft so he could support himself and a possible family in the future. Same for Rhaenys, who had shown a good promise of becoming skilled in painting whatever she got her hands on some nice colour pigments that she could paint with. 

“If only I can get a proper art teacher for Rhaenys, I think she would have a chance to become either a artist or perhaps even one of the female historians of Dorne…”

With women forbidden as students in the Citadel of Oldtown, otherwise only finding education if they were given to the Faith of Seven to become septas or belonging to the upper classes, Dorne had acted differently over the centuries since Nymeria had made House Martell their rulers and many of the most famous historical artists, historians and writers in Dorne were women. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

They had agreed to met up with Boromir half a day away from Minas Tirith, at a natural place to rest their horses. Besides, the future Steward of Gondor was a somewhat familiar face to Rhaenys and Aegon now, so he was better than a stranger. 

“Here is the happy family!” 

“Mister Boromir!” 

Théodred was used the half-crushing bear hug, Elia somewhat surprised by the strength but mentally reminded herself that Boromir was a soldier, while Rhaenys and Aegon enjoyed being tossed up in the air. 

But Boromir was not alone in meeting the crown prince couple of Rohan. At his side stood a slightly younger man with raven-black hair yet similar grey eyes and facial bone structure, proving Elia right in her guessing when he presented himself as Faramir, the younger son of Denethor II and newly appointed commander over the Rangers of Ihilien. 

“Lord Boromir have spoken warmly about you, my lord, so it is a honor to meet.”

Once again, Elia showed all the education she had as a princess of Dorne as she greeted Faramir, as the daughter of a ruling Princess and sister to the current Prince. Rohan and Gondor was vastly different from Westeros, but she had no plans to disgrace her husband or new in-laws during this visit. 

It was something with Faramir that reminded of her own father Ihsan, Elia recalled Boromir mentioning something about his brother being more of a scholar with a great love for lore and music, for all of that Faramir was a skillful warrior too, and she knew at once that despite being a second son, this was a man that would be a hidden treasure as a husband for the woman who caught his heart. 

“The same for you, my lady, though I fear that the news of this royal wedding in Rohan have made our father start muttering loudly about finding a bride for my poor brother soon,” Faramir smiled, while his older brother found himself checked over by Aegon in a manner that reminded of their first meeting, with the boy moving his little hands over the adult man's tunic. 

“No arrows,” Aegon said in a cheerful voice, as if he had been worried about something and seen that it had not happened. 

“Ok, who have given you sweets in secret behind the backs of your parents? Lady Laywyn or Queen Mother Morwen?” Boromir hurried to joke in a friendly manner, not being sure if he would tell Théodred and Elia why the boy had done so. Rhaenys gave her brother a odd look, then at Boromir before looking at Faramir again to make sure that she knew which brother that was who. 

  
  


Being summer, daylight would remain long into the evening. Even on a distance, Minas Tirith was impressive and grew to be even more so as they rode closer to the Great Gate in the easternmost point of the City Wall. For Elia who had seen a few grand castles in Westeros, the White City built by the the Faithful Númenóreans made the Red Keep, Dragonstone and the ruins of Harrenhal look like small buildings built from mere children's toys made out of stones that had been carefully crafted and colored. 

“Meduseld is more  _ cozy _ compared to where I once lived, but the White City is the mightiest stronghold I have seen in my life so far,” was all she commented at the question Faramir gave her, and Théodred had to fake a cough to hide his laugher. He knew that many of the nobles in Gondor saw Edoras and the Golden Hall as being unpretentious, almost laughable simple in design to the stone cities in Gondor, so it felt good to hear his wife make a such response. Besides, her calling it cozy also spoke of how unsatisfied she had found her previous status as future queen for another realm. 

Rohan might seem poor with only twelve thusband man as their biggest army, but Elia had pointed out that at least it was one single kingdom, not several former ones made into a single realm under the control of one royal dynasty, and therefore far easier to rule over. 

“Our father is currently with our maternal uncle and other important guests in some meeting about the incoming harvest, so we was tasked with being your hosts until the feast tomorrow.”

That was welcome, Elia thought, for it would not give the best first impression to show up before the Steward of Gondor straight out of the saddle, still dressed in travel clothing. Her children were tired after the journey, and she wanted to clean herself in a warm bath if that was possible, even if she would be pleased with just rubbing her body clean with water in a wooden bowl and a towel like she would do on really hot days in Dorne when they needed to conserve water so there was enough to drink for everyone. Water was valuable, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Éored was a division of the Rohirrim consisting of a considerable body of men, fully trained for war, who might serve for a specific term or sometimes as a permanent group. In the early history of Rohan the number could vary, but in the days of King Folcwine a "full Éored" was defined as 120 men (including its captain) and was one hundredth part of the Full Muster of the Riders of the Mark
> 
> About Aragorn not being a direct descendant from the original royal line of Gondor: Elendil and his two sons, Isildur and Anárion founded the two Númenórean realms in exile: Arnor and Gondor. Elendil was the High King of all of the Dúnedain but the rule of the southern kingdom of Gondor was delegated to joint ruled under his sons. After the War of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men both Elendil and Anárion were dead, so Isildur became the new High King. When he left Gondor to take up his kingship in Arnor he delegated rule of Gondor to Anárion’s son, Meneldil. However, Isildur and his first three sons perished in the Disaster of the Gladden Fields. From that time forward the two realms were sundered, with the Kings of Gondor descending from the House of Anárion and the Kings of Arnor descending from the House of Isildur. Aragorn is a descendant of the Gondorian royal line though his foremother princess Fíriel, meaning that he is from a female line
> 
> Dornish women being better known as historical artists, historians and writers? Yes, that is my headcanon based on that it is most often men who goes out in war, while their mothers, wives, sisters and daughters stays back home. Also, Dorne was not joined into one single realm until Nymeria and her husband Mors Martell conquered the rest of Dorne, which had been spit into lesser kingdoms before that. And with Rhoynar influence remaining strong in Dorne, that would have allowed women to not merely be wives and mothers anymore.
> 
> Tolkien wrote Boromir as having dark hair but Faramir is mentioned to be black haired, but it is likely that they simply inherited different forms of the DNA from their parents like siblings often do when they are not identical twins
> 
> About why I am mentioning Faramir as recently appointed commander: according to the timeline, he is only 25 currently in-story as it is still nine years before the War of the Ring and being five years younger than Boromir, he must turn 26 at some point during 3009. I headcanon both brothers to be born in autumn or early winter, to explain why Boromir is 41 years old when he dies in canon at Amon Ereb on the date of February 26th, 3019, and Théodred shares the year of birth with Boromir though I headcanon him to be a few months older


	3. Descendants of Númenor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elia meets two vastly different relatives to Boromir and Faramir

As Rhaenys and Aegon fell asleep rather fast, as they tended to do after a eventful day, that left Elia and Théodred to enjoy some time for themselves in their guest chamber. 

“Perhaps it is a poor taste to compare two different spouses, but I will say it once again; **_if I could go back in time, say ten years, and find a way to travel between our worlds, I would gladly marry you from the start._ ** And let that daydreaming silver fool end up marrying the she-wolf or whatever wife he would have ended up with.”

“If going back in time was possible, then I would gladly welcome you to be mine.” 

Proving that he had paid careful attention to how his wife liked it in bed, Théodred gently pulled her on top of himself so she could start riding him in the astride position while being the one in control. 

For Elia, who had remained a virgin until her first wedding night because she never had desired someone to the point of sharing a bed and not exactly enjoying whatever she had do her duty in bed to Rhaegar because there had really been no passion between them, there had been no problems with Théodred admitting that while he was enlightened about sex and related stuff by Mereliss, since the midwife had kept playing a important role in his life even after stopping being his wet nurse, the Prince of Rohan had not been drawn to any woman enough much to bed her. 

Therefore, Elia was only happy to educate her new husband in the pleasures that could be found between the bed sheets once they had that year to pass between the betrothal and wedding, and he proved himself a focused disciple who learned quickly to give her pleasure with his mouth, tongue and hands as a taste of what they would share in the marriage bed as they did not want to rush the wedding by accidentally getting Elia with child before the big day. 

“Be still!” Théodred suddenly hushed at hearing something that could be the footsteps of either Rhaenys or Aegon just outside the door. As they were face to face already, he only needed to pull Elia down on the side and toss a blanket over them both so there would be no embarrassing questions about why they were naked. Thankfully, the footsteps vanished soon. 

“I am sure that my brothers would agree about needing to train doing this with their wives without the kids finding out,” Elia smiled before kissing her husband on the cheek, not feeling too sad over that their private fun had been interrupted. There was no pressure on her becoming pregnant directly after the wedding despite being married to the next king, though it was viewed as a good sign in Rohan if she would start a pregnancy before the first wedding anniversary. 

“See it as training for then our own little one is old enough for walking around,” Théodred grinned, Mereliss had told him that Elia would be able of a third pregnancy but that it was not guaranteed that there would be more children afterwards, making Elia smile fondly at him. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The following day, the small family spent time with the two sons of the Steward out at the Court of the Fountain, guarded by the Guards of the Citadel and where the White Tree of Gondor still remained despite being dead. 

“Father is currently in a meeting with his counsellors that will last before until three hours before the feast tonight, so you will not meet him until the very start of the feast where he will give a formal welcome,” Boromir explained while Faramir found himself asked by Rhaenys why the White Tree had not been replaced by a seedling that could grow into a new tree. Aegon, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the tall helmets worn by the guards. 

“Aegon, no. The carved wings of seabirds on the helmets are not for touching, how tempering they must seem for your fingers.”

Faramir had been kind to bring out watercolours and brushes to paint on some parchments, much to the delight of Rhaenys, which also helped to distract Aegon from the shiny helmets. 

“Now this is a young lady with some skills in painting...

Right then, a new voice called in the distance: 

“Cousin! Cousins!”

As their attention was drawn towards the owner of the voice, a young girl no less than ten years old at most, Elia honestly thought it to be her niece Arianne for a moment, for the skin colour, only a slightly bit lighter, and black hair curls was nearly identical to Rhaenys. And the dress style was the “Anarkali” style used in Norvos where Mellario had been born and raised. 

“ **_Arianne?!_ ** ” 

Yet at a better look, it became clear that it was not Doran's daughter who came running. This girl was chubby in a manner that would turn her into a full-figured beauty as long as she did not give in to the temptation of overeating, and her grey eyes revealed some form of kinship to the two adult men who welcomed her into a hug. 

“Lothíriel! You have grown well since last time we saw you, little cousin!” Boromir laughed as he spun her around with ease. Then he presented her for the crown prince couple of Rohan: 

“My friends, please meet our cousin Lothíriel, the only princess of Dol Amroth of our generation. I asked our maternal uncle to bring her along, in the hope of that she might befriend Rhaenys and Aegon during this stay.”

“Pleasant to meet you, my lord, my lady,” Lothíriel greeted with a curtsy. Aegon understandably was unsure about this unfamiliar girl and sought the safety of his stepfather, but the two girls looked carefully on each other. Then Rhaenys tried to offer a clean brush, in a silent offer of painting together as they did not yet know each other's languages, Rhaenys being used to Rohirric and Lothíriel only speaking Westron. But since Lothíriel was a smart young lady, she understood the meaning and nodded in agreement. 

In the end, Boromir and Théodred ended up as translators for the two girls once they started a attempt of a discussion over the paintings, while Faramir found a book of short stories for young children that he did read aloud for Aegon and Elia, sitting on a marble bench not far away. Just because Aegon did not know Westron, it did not mean that he refused to listen on the tales. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Later that evening: 

“You need to be ready on some questions about your origins and where your homeland is, for our uncle married a woman from the city of Linhir, one of our most southern cities. But our aunt by marriage have some lineage from Harad, as can be seen in that Lothíriel and her three brothers have a slightly darker skin color than us.”

That warning about questions did not surprise Elia, since Boromir knew that she and Théodred would claim her false origin story to avoid unpleasantness. 

“And that choice of bride was not fully accepted?” she asked as Théodred helped to set up her hair in a high ponytail with a colourful ribbon that matched the clothes they had worn on their wedding and now worn as their finest clothing.

“No. Aunt Sita have worked hard to prove herself worthy of her marriage despite that she is not of the purest blood, so it is why her children all got traditional names while she have one that tells of her lineage.” 

Naturally, the Prince of Rohan had to add in something blunt: 

“I am saying this as someone of mixed lineage: fresh blood is the key to avoid inbreeding.”

Elia gently stomped her heel on his toes to remind him about that was not the suitable thing to mention at a such event like this. 

  
  


The feast was held in the Great Hall of Feasts, which once had been the feasting-hall of the Kings and Gondor and remaining such under the Stewards because a great number of the noble families could be gathered there without it feeling crowded. The men was dressed in a dalmatic in various darker colours, and their wives, mothers, unwed sisters and of-age daughters wore a similar robe made from brocade fabric with more bright colours together with embroidery. 

“Their royal highnesses, Prince Théodred and Princess Elia of Rohan!” 

Despite that this was a foreign land, Elia recalled how it had been for her at the royal court while being married to Rhaegar. Here, she would not hear any racist comments about her Dornish blood and lineage, but it was foolish to lower her guard for that. Here she was a unknown person, somehow ending up marrying the future King of Rohan. 

Nodding in greeting to the various nobles as he guided Elia by her hand on his arm, Théodred kept his eyes on Denethor II, the current Steward of Gondor where he could be found with his in-laws. They stopped on a distance of three meters, just in case. Finally, the Steward spoke up: 

“I see that brides of eastern lineage are fashionable among rulers those days. But to marry a widow is most unusual for a prince of the House of Eorl the Young.”

Ok, compared to what Aerys would say, that was almost a compliment. So Elia chose to show some of the wit she had been blessed with. 

“The man I had to call my first husband, had all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire. He claimed to be a dragon, but was but a mere small lizard when compared to this golden stallion I found protection soon after entering widowhood.” 

Behind him, the youngest son of the Steward did his best to not laugh, same with the older brother. And to everyone's surprise, Denethor drew a little on his mouth as if he actually found the answer funny. 

“I see how the golden stallion of Rohan was tamed, then.”

Elia had passed the test, for now. But the evening was not yet over, and she knew that Denethor was the most powerful man in this room, there would be others among the nobles who doubted the wisdom of her being the future queen consort of Rohan. 

“ _ Well, let them try and break me down. I am a daughter of Nymeria, a descendant of Morgan Martell, and their blood in my veins have always been more important than the Targaryen drops that made me chosen to be the wife of Rhaegar! _ ” 

She was born a princess of Dorne, and she would prove herself true to the words of her House: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut and Explicit-rating are not something I writes often, for various reasons, so while it will not be seen much, it is safe to say that Elia enjoys stuff in the marriage bed far better with Théodred because he actually plays attention to what she wants 
> 
> The dalmatic is a robe with wide sleeves, it reaches to at least the knees or lower. It could be worn by both genders in the Byzantine Empire, though mainly by men. 
> 
> Dating back to the Middle Ages, brocade fabric was one of the few luxury fabrics worn by nobility throughout China, India, Persia, Greece, Japan, Korea and Byzantium. Woven by the Byzantines, brocades were an especially desirable fabric. From the 4th to the 6th centuries, production of silk was seemingly non-existent, as linen and wool were the predominant fabrics. During this period, there was no public knowledge of silk fabric production except for that which was kept secret by the Chinese.
> 
> And here we meets Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, the cousin of Faramir and Boromir, who gets the honor of being a plus-size beauty for my stories. She is the canon wife of Éomer, and became his queen consort of Rohan two years after the War of the Ring. She will play a important role in the War of the Ring for this AU at the royal court of Rohan, as I plan for Éomer and Lothíriel to marry already in T.A 3018 because of plot-related reasons
> 
> The shalwar kameez known as the Anarkali suit is named after the court dancer from Lahore. This suit has a timeless style which has become very popular. It is made up of a long, frock-style top and features a slim fitted bottom. 
> 
> Sita is the name of a Hindu goddess, and I wanted Lothíriel to have a mother that have Númenorian lineage but less so than her husband because she have some unknown blood ties to the people of Harad. During the Third Age the Great Plague, together with the Kin-strife, a disastrous civil war in Gondor, killed many of the Númenóreans of purest blood aka those who had lineage all the way from Númenór, so many survivors took wives that was not of Númenorian lineage at all


	4. Cultural exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elia learns of a ancient legend from the East

Elia had expected that a lot of attention would be paid to her, not merely for being the new crown princess of Rohan but also because she was a foreigner of unknown origins for Gondor. 

“As long as I only mention vague details about Dorne, it should be safe…” 

She and Théodred had agreed on that she would not mention much, only that Dorne risked to be found out by Sauron if the wrong person pressed her for information about her homeland. Surely the nobles of Gondor would see the advantage of the fact that there were secret rebels against the Dark Lord in the East, and understand that if Elia had been married in the hope of bringing in new alliances, it would have been to become stronger in their fight. Besides, it would not be too far from the truth either, if she claimed that her late husband had been brought astray by another woman. 

  
  


The banquet, however, proved that Gondor was not only wealthy despite that it no longer had the more expanded borders and strength of its Golden Age, it was rich in culture and proud of its history. Fish soup as a starter together with white bread as darker, more coarse bread was associated with the lower social classes, followed by a fresh summer salad made with boiled carrots, lettuce, turnips, nuts, and herbs as the first course. Then the main course was fish pies and boiled salmon served with sliced lemons, roasted venison flavored with herbs to bring out the wild taste, honey roasted carrots and other root crops like roasted potatoes, served with herb sauces. 

“Some of the fish recipes served here are said to be a legacy from Númenor, though slightly changed over the generations as something of the ingredients was found only the island itself or has become extinct due to that the plant or fish species was a little too popular in cooking in the long run,” Faramir explained to Elia as they ate. Due to her and Théodred being the future rulers of the neighboring county and the main ally to Gondor, they were seated at the high table together with the Steward, his sons and in-laws. Of course Elia knew about such tales, checking over what had been popular to serve at the royal table would always show the finest of dishes.

“A shame that we, in such cases, can not enjoy what our ancestors viewed as the best fishes because they ate up it all,” she commented, again showing the wit she had learned during her childhood in Sunspear. 

  
  


After that they enjoyed the dessert, seasonal fruit tarts and fresh fruits together with gingerbread as a special treat, it was time for some dancing and talk futher down in the feasting hall. 

“It must be strange to marry into a such different culture as Rohan, especially after your first marriage. I may have Númenorian blood but my maternal family have never really forgotten their origins in Harad.” 

It was true that Boromir's and Faramir's maternal uncle Imrahil was not yet Prince of Dol Amroth, but the brothers had confirmed that their grandfather Adrahil was likely not long for the world because of a illness related to old age, which could be hinted in his body language when Elia cast a discreet glare towards the current Prince of Dol Amroth, and therefore their uncle had taken over more and more duties so to give his weakening sire a easier final time in life. 

“Princess consort Sita.”

Clearly Elia was not the only woman to address the future princess consort like this, for several other women did so as well. 

“But it is a joy to have your daughter come home to you guest house and be happy to tell about making a new friend. There is not many girls like Lothíriel in Dol Amroth with mixed blood, so she sadly sometimes feel alone.”

And it was the same for Rhaenys. She stood out among her friends in Edoras with her olive skin and black hair, so despite it being three years between the girls, there was a very good chance that they would end up as penpals at least even if they could not meet very often.

“Aye. Friendships are strong bond, and can be very useful in troubling times or when you just need someone of your own gender to talk with. While I missed the chance to make such bonds with the offspring of my own mother's friends, partly due to age difference between us daughters and the other lady only having a living daughter long after my first wedding, there is others from my own homeland that I gladly call close friends.” 

Elia was not naive about that Cersei Lannister would have see her more as a rival than possible ally, because Elia being one decade older which in turn meant that she had a longer time to build up some form of social network and indirect power as a wife and mother. And poor Daenerys, the last child of Rhaella, would have been more of a daughter, closer in age to Rhaenys and Aegon, because Elia was 28 years older. It was true that some friendships could exist even with a major age difference, but sometimes it simply was easier within your own age group.

“Say, Elia...are you familiar with the legend _Son of the Sea-woman_?” Sita asked suddenly, and at her confused look, it was obvious that Elia had no idea what sort of tale it was. 

“Ah, that legend is pretty famous in the East,” Faramir added in, “as it is mentioned among a few of very old texts here in the records. A prince low in the succession, born to a woman that is not a native of the realm ruled by her husband, becoming so deeply jealous on his half-siblings over that he is the least likely choice to be the new ruler that he ends up using some form of dark magic to kill them all at a important festival where the King would name his chosen successor. In the end, it was all in vain, for he ended up being killed by the dying King with a tossed dragger to his throat as a final act of teaching the prince to not underestimate why his aging father was so successful in battle and had never fallen victim to assassins in the past.” 

Her curiosity aroused, Elia mentally cursed that her father was not here; this was something that Ihsan would have likened to a secret treasure from another culture and trying to grab it with both hands. 

“One version of that legend says that the unfavored son was born as an albino, or at least turning into one when his use of dark magic was used in front of the whole royal family,” Denethor commented in a dry voice, from where he had been talking with his father-in-law, being somewhat familiar with that story from his own schooling as a young boy but viewing it as nothing else than a typical mortal tale about that a person would meet a nasty end for using dark magic. 

Then Sita spoke up again, in a slightly dramatic manner to raise the excitement for those who listened:

“Yet it is also said that two daughters of the King managed to survive. Their names are sadly lost to time because originally it was forbidden to name the realm and what had happened to the royal family there, but the older sister is commonly called the **_Spear Princess_** because she fought together with her father for some years before marrying a priest in her homeland, and it is whispered that she managed to escape to the cost of losing her husband in the massacre as he was a son-in-law to the King, with a magical spear that had been blessed by her father to always protect her bloodline. The younger sister, known as the **_Moon princess_** for being born with a mark looking like a crescent moon on her left palm, was sent off to wed a ally to her father and survived the massacre of her birth family thanks to having arrived early to her new homeland, or that the traitorous prince viewed that sister as not being a threat to his gasp for power, unlike the Spear Princess who was older than the prince.” 

Yes, this was really a tale that Ihsan would have loved to hear and write down in his own collection to save for future generations, Elia knew her father and his taste for old lore that sometimes meant some form of tales like this. 

“What does the Sea-woman mean in the title, by the way? A supernatural being taking human form?” 

Again Elia felt blessed for how Ihsan would tell stories and tales for her in childhood, as a part of her education so she could outshine the health issues from her premature birth through vast knowledge in many areas. He had called it a way to prove her worth in a different way than just being a wife and having children, a way to honor other ladies of Dorne famous for their knowledge. 

“The people in Harad and Rhûn of the Second Age would often call people from Númenor as _sea-people,_ so there is a alleged idea that the traitorous prince actually was born to a Númenorian woman.” 

Right, Denethor did not like the idea of a such lady ending up with a such infamous son, that was clear for everyone. Instead, Elia chose to tell a slightly changed version of the famous meeting between her ancestor Meria Martell and Queen Rhaenys Targaryen, as well how the sister-wife of Aegon I had died, not mentioning how many years it actually was since that time, instead forming it as having happened a few hundred years earlier. 

“The dragon was struck down by a bolt from a scorpion in the eye?! What a lucky strike, especially if that woman actually had tamed it and could use the dragon as a weapon in war!” 

Elia felt proud over that her ancestors seemed to impress the nobles of Gondor, perhaps they would not view her with such strong suspicion now or believe that she had been sent to drive a gap between Gondor and Rohan. 

“Princess? One of your ladies suddenly said something about your daughter sleepwalking…” Boromir said as he walked up to her. Théodred, understandably, got a little alarmed at recalling what once had happened at a previous time when Rhaenys had been sleepwalking in Meduseld. 

“Please excuse us for a few minutes, Rhaenys nearly got hurt once when this happened…” 

Elia followed after her husband, worrying about her daughter. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As she had not been spotted outside the guest chamber where she and Aegon slept until now, Rhaenys had gotten pretty far away before her parents caught up. 

“Damn, she managed to find my spear somehow…”

Last time, only a few months before the wedding, the sleepwalking Rhaenys had grabbed a spear from the corner where the members of the King's Guard kept their weapons when not on duty to protect the King or being the ones to guard the great doors to Meduseld. Something in her dreams had caused her to strike towards anyone of the still awake servants who had first seen her, and it was with great difficulty that Elia and Théodred had managed to gently take the spear away from Rhaenys before someone got injured. 

“Remember how we did last time and it should work now as well.”

Just in case, Elia started to sing a lullaby from Dorne that always calmed Rhaenys whatever she was sad, so she did not make any movements that could become risky. 

“ _Can you brave what you fear, and face the secrets of the past? The ones once lost, and who awaits someone to find the truth? The secrets of a old palace, hidden in the desert sand._ ” 

Seeing how Rhaenys relaxed at the sound of the lullaby, Théodred carefully picked her up so he could carry her back to the guest chamber, Elia taking the spear since his arms was filled. 

“...water lilies...perfumes of...incense…” Rhaenys muttered in her sleep, then falling silent again with her head towards his shoulder. As they walked back, Théodred made a point of not making too many moments that could awake the girl. 

  
  


Once they had put Rhaenys back into bed, and set back his spear in their own guest chamber, did Elia take the chance to ask:

“The realm in that legend Sita told about...it fell into chaos due to the whole royal family dying like that, right?”

He had expected her to ask something like that, if she could get some minutes alone with the future Princess consort of Dol Amroth. 

“Most likely. Personally, I think there was a civil war resulting, with different people of high status and social power wanting the empty throne and form a royal dynasty of their own bloodline. The realm could also have been seen as a easy prey by greedy neighbors, without a strong leader to unite them against the enemy.” 

Elia knew that her husband was right. Such was the sad fate for many realms, empires and kingdoms across history. A huge sign of weakness like losing the current ruler and all the closest relatives, was a disaster that always ended up spreading devastation in many forms.

“May the bloodline of House Martell remain strong forever and protect Dorne from danger.”

Not the smoothest attempt to cheer her up, but Elia understood the meaning behind what Théodred had tried to say. That as long as there was a Martell ruling Dorne from Sunspear, her homeland would be safe from a such fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Imrahil is the soon-to-be Prince of Dol Amroth, Sita would carry the title of Princess consort once that happens, and due to my headcanon that Adrahil is a widower since some years ago, Sita is the most powerful woman in Dol Amroth as the wife of the heir
> 
> Gingerbread in the medieval times were not like modern-day cake variants, it was far more like a candy or confectionery, often made with breadcrumbs, boiled honey, ginger and often other species 
> 
> With Daenerys being born nine months after the Sack of King's Landing in 284 A.C, I would not call it impossible to say that she is roughly two years younger than Aegon, give or take a few days but a maximum of two weeks before his birthday. Therefore, I imagine that Elia is 28 years older than Daenerys


	5. Shadow of the East

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna makes a big mistake that costs her dearly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention, dear readers: This chapter is going to be pretty violent, in several manners such as mentions of past child abuse, corporal punishment during a public beating and temporary immurement. Also, for those who likes Ned Stark, he is not going to be shown in a good manner during a nightmare. // Rogercat

The lands of Rhûn, Temple of Shadows:

It was not the most cheerful mood in the Temple today. To be fair, it had been a unpleasant sandstorm yesterday, creating far more work than usual for the slaves who was tasked with sweeping and cleaning the temple each day, and not everyone would be comfortable with that Khamûl had returned there for a unknown length of time. It was not many who could stand being in his presence for long, which explained why there was far more female slaves than official consorts, since the currently twenty-three consorts in different ages was the few women who could manage to be around the Nazgûl without terror. That, however, was only one of several requirements to be a candidate for becoming a consort; beauty was not the most important, but rather skills in music, dancing , how well they performed in ceremonies with the priests and most of all, they were chosen from how well they spoke the language here at the temple, an otherwise extinct language in the outside world because Khamûl wanted to hear the language of his original life even now in the Third Age. At the same ceremony, the chosen girls could also they were tested to see if they had a sixth sense, making a such girl a rarely-seen oracle for the rulers in the world outside the temple and living in a separate building. 

  
  


For now, the consorts was busy making themselves ready to entertain their Lord with some dance and music during a small performance for him. But one small figure had caught their attention, making them stop temporarily with their makeup and focus on the child instead. 

“Really, this just proves that woman to be unsuitable for motherhood.” 

Tuya, one of the youngest consorts since none of them was below the age of twenty, held Visenya in her lap while Satiah, another consort, smeared some soothing salve on the small cheek and ear. Given that Visenya was so pale in her skin colour that she could almost be mistaken for a real albino on a distance unless she came closer to a observer, there was just no way she could hide that someone had slapped the four-year-old girl. And all the consorts knew one person that could have done so. After all, Lyanna Stark had shown several times that she was best kept separate from her biological daughter so Visenya did not end up in some form of harm. 

“I ordered the cooks to reward the weaver who saw the scene with something extra in her portion for the evening meal tonight when the slaves gather together for eating. As for that northern-born woman, she can forget anything about food for hurting her own daughter and think that she would get away with it simply because no one else was around to watch poor Visa.”

“Had it not been for her having the looks of a woman from  **_the Isle_ ** which marked her as a woman that must be brought here by the orders of our master, she would have been sold on a common slave market instead. But I agree with you girls, just because a woman ends up pregnant and gives birth, there are cases when maternal instincts simply do not awake no matter how much time that is passing and the child remains unwanted.” 

Iset, the oldest of the consorts, watched her younger sister-wives as they dotted on the young girl. None of them had ever been pregnant with a child of their own inside their wombs, being chosen as a consort made that wish impossible since their Lord was a wraith and they were expected to be faithful to him. Instead, many of them ended up acting as mother figures to other young girls arriving to the temple. In some cases, such as Visenya, the child was all but unofficially adopted by a consort. 

Not that it meant anything special, though, outside becoming a handmaiden to the consort instead of having to work the most heavy work like the other slaves. Still, it was a higher position in the social ranks inside the temple. 

“I hope that if Visa keeps having those dreams that she have mentioned a few times, she can join us as a consort once she is old enough for the wedding ceremony and act as a oracle,” Tuya smiled, offering a piece of fresh melon for Visenya to take in her hands. Given how motherly the consorts was to the girl, as a contrast to Lyanna, it was perfectly normal that Visenya preferred their company over her own birth mother once she had been old enough to see the difference in how she was treated. And especially Tuya had taken the role of being a mother to Visenya, spending nearly every free moment with the girl when she did not have her duties as a consort to think about.

“Now, Visa, can you follow the nursemaid back to the nursery at the other side of the temple? The sun is strong and it would not be pleasant if you got those nasty sunburns again. It is soon dinner, as well. You need to eat lots of tasty food so you grow up strong and healthy.” 

  
  


Once the girl had waved a silent goodbye, not being very talkative in the first place as her personality showed all signs of that Visenya was not the most social child around, did the mood in the chamber turn more serious. 

“Right, let us do our best tonight. Our Lord may not be the easiest master to serve, but at least we are spared from having to bear his children.” 

While the consorts shared a background of having slavery as their background, either born in it or sold as very young girls to repay debts before arriving here, they were still educated enough much about the world outside the Temple to know that their master was not normal. 

“Thank all the gods in the world for that mercy. I would not want to see a son or daughter of my own womb become a servant to the Dark One.” 

The sun was setting, it was soon time for them to be present in the throne chamber of the temple. If Khamûl noticed that something was amiss, they could easy blame Lyanna's behavior against her daughter this afternoon as a reason for their mood.

  
  


Meanwhile, Lyanna Stark was not happy. Not that it was anything strange, she had very few reasons to be pleased with her current life. She was tired and hungry, her body aching after all the work, but she had been given so many tasks to finish over the afternoon that when she was finally finished, dinner were already over and no leftovers for her to still her hunger with. 

“Four years...how long are I to stay in this scorching hell?! Are the Martells so desperate to make the son of that frail Dornish woman be the next King that they do not want Ned to find me!?”

As the daughter of Winterfell did not want this to be her afterlife, simply because she refused to accept that her elopement with Rhaegar had caused the deaths of her father, oldest brother and started a rebellion against the Targaryens, all because the circumstances surrounding her disappearance honestly did look like she truly was abducted by the Crown prince despite that Elia Martell had given him a son only a few months earlier, she had started to deceive herself about that her stay in the Halls of Mandos had been nothing else than a fever dream, and that the three members of the Kingsguard had needed to hide her and the newborn Visenya somewhere else because there was a high risk of someone finding them eventually.

Of course, she refused to see the poor logic of a such scenario, and instead Lyanna now intended to finally leave the temple by her own means. As if she, a daughter of House Stark, would be treated like a low-ranking servant, no way! Once she returned home to the North, Ned would welcome her with open arms, that she was sure of, and she would ensure that everyone in this temple would be punished for how they had treated her. 

“They can keep Visenya, I never wanted her anyway…” 

That she had slapped her daughter earlier today when spotting Visenya not having another adult along, was because of her accumulated frustration over everything that had happened since that day she had been brought to the Tower of Joy and inner anger over how Visenya was not the son she had believed to be carrying during the pregnancy. After all, as a daughter Visenya would only end up sold in marriage, the same fate as Lyanna had wanted to avoid. 

“Soon time to start the escape, I must be ready…”

Lyanna had been here long enough to know that today was a full-scale cleaning of the stables not far from the outer wall, the horses being out in a paddock overnight while the stables was cleaned by the grooms. And when the guards changed shift there at the main gate, there would be a chance to climb over the wall with the rope she had smuggled out the previous day.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

_ Warmth in the air, just like around the Temple. But the tower that seemed to raise up to the sky was unfamiliar, and two male voices speaking the same language as only her birth mother did.  _

_ “Lord Stark...shall we bring the child to Winterfell as well? She is your niece, after all, the offspring of Lady Lyanna, and a Stark of Winterfell on her maternal side…”  _

_ But the man, who carried a dead body wrapped into bed linens since he found nothing else to be a burial shroud for his lost sister, suddenly changed from deep sorrow into anger on his face:  _

_ “ _ **_That thing is NOT any child of hers! Lyanna never was pregnant when we found her dying from a fever, do you hear me, Howland?! I will not have Lyanna's resting place be tainted by the abnormal offspring of Rhaegar Targaryen! And even if that monster was alive, and being a normal girl instead of looking like a deformed dragon, she looks far too alike the Targaryens for me to claim her as Jon's smaller twin sister, and raising both my brother's and sister's bastard children as Snows! No, if she was alive, I would rather send this little monster to Dragonstone where the rest of her damn family is, instead of needing to hide her away from the world in Winterfell! Besides, even if she looked more like my sister in colour, where would I send her when she is of age? There is no motherhouses in the North, and people would start asking questions if she married and her first child enters the world with the looks of House Targaryen!_ ** ” 

_ Not any child of hers. Monster. Abnormal. Deformed dragon.  _

_ Another baby, who grew into a small boy, with the same long face as Ned, the same dark brown hair and grey eyes.  _

_ “Jon, come with me.” _

_ Ned addressed the boy with such tender voice that Visenya realized the contrast to what he had said about her.  _

_ Monster, monster, monster, monster....  _

  
  


Visenya woke up with a jerk, gasping for breath as well reaching out for something in a movement that made her sit up. Was that her uncle Ned, who her birth mother always muttered about coming to save Lyanna from the temple? If that was the claimed savior, then Visenya knew that he would never bring her along. She had heard it in his voice that unlike Jon Snow, the natural son of her other uncle Brandon, Ned would never see her as family because of her father. Because she took after House Targaryen, a living proof of what Lyanna had done to break away from her arranged marriage to Robert Baratheon. 

“Mother...mother!” 

It was not Lyanna she wanted in this moment, it was Tuya. Warm, welcoming Tuya, unaware of how some of her behavior towards Visenya was near identical to how Visenya's half-siblings Rhaenys and Aegon would be treated by their mother Elia Martell. 

Suddenly there was a shrill scream echoing in the air, and the other girls in the nursery woke up, crying in terror over the sound. This, in turn, made the nursemaids and a few female slaves rush inside to try and calm down the terrified children. 

“What have happened? The Master never reacts in a such way…” 

“Someone stole not only the food offering from the altar in the shrine dedicated to the Master's Great Royal Wife and her children back when he was still mortal, but even the few remaining jewelry of hers! It happened while the consorts was performing for him!” 

The nursemaids did not realise that Visenya froze in horror as her ability to see the past acted up again, and she saw who the thief was: Lyanna Stark. 

“ **_WHAT?!_ ** Is that thief desiring a slow, painful death?! We all knows stories of what have happened to other thieves here in the temple! And stealing from that shrine is...insanity! Only the consorts are allowed to place the food offering for souls of the Great Royal Wife and the heirs she once bore to him!” 

Unable to make a sound as she once again heard Khamûl, somewhere in the distance, scream in wroth over the disrespect shown to the long-dead woman he once had called his Great Royal Wife, Visenya joined the other girls in crying as the adult women tried to calm them down. But she did it not just out of fear, but in terror for what would happen to her birth mother. 

  
  


Before midnight had passed, Khamûl returned to the Temple of Shadows, all the priests, consorts, children, servants and slaves awaiting their master out on the front yard. With him was the barely conscious Lyanna Stark, slung as a sack of grain over the other horse she had stolen in the escape attempt, her face showing deep, still bleeding lacerations after being hit several times by the gold flail that Khamûl had not let go off when storming off to the stables to chase after Lyanna on his horse. 

As the consorts had entertained him until that a terrified Iset, her older age making it harder for dancing together with her sister-wives, had dashed inside the chamber to tell of the theft, Khamûl still wore the nemes and gold mask he tended to wear here in the Temple when not having the hood of his normal black robe covering him. Still, no one could mistake the furious aura around the Shadow of the East, showing why he was called such in the West. The female slave had done a crime no one should do. 

“Ow!” 

Khamûl showed no mercy, dragging Lyanna off the horse and along the ground with his gauntleted hand in her hair. 

“ _ Stealing a food offering to eat is one thing, but no one touches those jewelry that once belonged to someone I still recall with fondness from my mortal life! _ ”

Throwing Lyanna to the ground in front of him, the Nazgûl grabbed a cudgel offered by a priest. It was a horrible sight in the light from the torches, to see how she had no way to defend herself from the beatings and hearing her screams of pain. But no one dared to stop Khamûl or plead for him to show mercy, for that would only result in that person tasting a beating as well. Visenya trembled in Tuya's arms, looking away over her shoulder but unable to ignore the screams.

When Khamûl stopped the corporal punishment, Lyanna hands were broken and her whole body covered in a growing number of bruises. On the the limit of unconsciousness from the blows, the Stark woman could only gasp in protests as he once again dragged her in the hair. Towards a underground chamber, that had not been seen earlier because its roof of marble had been removed by the priests. 

“ _ Two full days and nights, from this moment. If she is still alive at dawn on the third day, lock her up in the prison room until that she have healed from her injuries from this night. Make her a food taster as punishment. _ ” 

Everyone of the present women who heard the judgment, paled in horror. Being a food taster was one of the worst jobs here at the temple, not because of that the consorts had any known enemies from the outside, but because all the chosen food tasters had to fear for their own lives every single time they tasted on the food meant for the consorts. Not only did you have to fear about getting poisoned, the actual punishment was to lose all joy associated with food and fear something else: In really bad cases, the food testers even found themselves paralysed in the limbs and spent the rest of their remaining lives locked away in a chamber at the back of the temple, because their share of the food contained a poison that was not served to the consort they tested the food for. To be served that poison, meant that you had done something really unforgivable in the past and nothing you did afterwards, could undo that crime. 

“No…” Lyanna gasped in realization when she saw the roof be pushed back above her, “no...no, no, no! Let me out! Let me out! Please, forgive me!  **_I only wanted to go home to the North and Winterfell!_ ** Let me out!!” 

But her pleadings were not heard, and her screams were cut off from the outside as Lyanna found herself in total darkness. Because everyone feared Khamûl's wrath, no one among the other women would dare to free Lyanna earlier than what he had said. In the Temple of Shadows, she was nothing else than a disobedient slave without a name or lineage, one of many who received this punishment for a crime and to break her spirit in a such manner that she gave up any possible attempts of rebellion in the future.

To see her mother not having learned her lesson about that she had to think before she acted out on something despite the cost in the past, together with the nightmare of her uncle Eddard, made Visenya promise to herself that she would  **_never_ ** leave the Temple of Shadows if she ever got a chance to return to Westeros, the seven kingdoms of her birth. Not if her own maternal family would not welcome her, for who her sire was and the rest of Westeros would be able to guess her paternal bloodline because of her appearance. A harsh lesson of life for a four-year-old girl together with seeing how her master reacted tonight, but something that Visenya realized the meaning of even at this young age. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuya, Satiah and Iset is female names from Ancient Egypt, and mentioned among the list of women being chosen as God's Wife of Amun, the highest-ranking priestess of the Amun cult, an important religious institution in ancient Egypt
> 
> Given that Visenya is a name from High Valyrian, a language unknown in Middle-earth, I imagine that the people in the Temple would have difficult to pronounce it properly (Lyanna is not helping as that is not her mother tongue either, her being from the North!) and instead address Visenya with the closest nickname they can make. In my own native Swedish, Visa is a word meaning a strophic poem, often with simple language, which is intended to be performed to a melody, without or with simple accompaniment.
> 
> About Lyanna fooling herself that she is still alive and in Dorne instead of being reborn in a different world as a punishment for her actions: think of how used she is to freedom because Rickard failed to find her a (much-needed) teacher in how to act like a lady and behaving as one of the boys because she grew up sheltered from the harsh reality in Winterfell, and that she honestly ran away in order to avoid being married to Robert. She is mentally stuck at the age of sixteen despite being a adult woman on twenty years currently in-story and not used to admit that she is the one at fault for a bad situation. Imagine it being the same at Harrenhal: Lyanna saw herself as a hero for saving Howland Reed and manage to escape without being found out as the Knight of the Laughing Tree apart from Rhaegar, not seeing how dangerous it actually was to a such stunt 
> 
> Nemes were pieces of striped headcloth worn by pharaohs in ancient Egypt. It covered the whole crown and back of the head and nape of the neck (sometimes also extending a little way down the back) and had lappets, two large flaps which hung down behind the ears and in front of both shoulders


	6. The seeds of change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life in Rohan takes changes, a little at a time

One of the biggest surprises in her life for Elia since the official betrothal to Théodred more than a year ago, was that Éowyn and Éomer actually tried to encourage their peers into trying and learn a few words of the Common Tongue spoken in Dorne. Well, as the now 18-year-old Éomer had pointed out when Elia found out, it would be difficult for a Dornish person to communicate with the Rohirrim if only the royal family had learned her mother tongue, so if there was more people knowing some basic words so that they could get directions towards Edoras, at least, it would make some things easier. 

“ _Which way leads to Edoras, your capital, where our princess Elia Martell can be found?_ ” she now asked in her mother tongue to test their skills, using the words most likely to be asked in a such situation.

“ _Follow the Great West Road from this point and Edoras shall be found._ ” 

It went pretty well, Elia personally thought, despite that most of the Rohirrim youths were only familiar with their own language, and she made sure to praise them to at least be able to suggest where to travel, even they struggled with correct pronunciation because the two languages were so different. 

  
  


Even if Éomer now was counted as a adult man since the summer and therefore had started to do the duties expected by someone in that age, Elia felt happy to see that he was not one of those foolish youths who used his coming-of-age as reason to stop spending time with his sister if she requested it or refusing to play with her children. 

“I do not like the idea of growing distant to Éowyn because I now am expected to ride out with the Éored as part of my training to be a warrior. She is my only sibling, and I want her to still feel that she can come to me for something she feels troubled by, even in adulthood.” 

“That is good. In the rest of Westeros, it is not uncommon that brothers might grow distant to their sisters, because they are fated either for marriage or a religious life with the Faith. In some families with many daughters, only the two oldest or prettiest might be wed, and the rest either ending up as septas or silent sisters.” 

Éowyn had started the changes from girlhood into becoming a maiden this autumn. It was expected, as she was already 14 and well-noted that girls of higher social status would often have their menarche at a younger age than girls from the lower classes. It was somehow connected to the access of nutrition, Elia recalled from her own studies when she had been about to start those body changes as well. 

“I am glad that she will not have to worry about any suitors yet for another four years. And not about pregnancy either, the mere thought of her found in bed with someone makes me feel sick.” 

How different Rhaella's life could have been, if she had been born here among the Rohirrim! Elia prayed regularly to Mother Rhoyne for the soul of her late mother-in-law, that Rhaella would be granted peace in the afterlife after a such horrible life because of her birth family and the deeds of her son together with the man who was not only her brother, but also husband and that the last Targaryen queen be allowed to be reborn in a hopefully much happier life. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The feast for Winter solstice was a big event, as always. But this one felt a little extra special, since Rohan now had a future queen consort at the side of the Prince and the King sister-son was of age, which opened the hope of that Éomer would find a bride of his own eventually in a few years. At the age of 31, Elia was still able of pregnancy as she had proven her fertility with two children in her previous marriage, even if it likely would not be the same hope of several children as if she had been ten years younger. 

“May the coming year be a extra blessful one by one than one manner, in honor of it being 500 years since Eorl the Young founded Rohan this coming August. Thus, let us make this jubilee a day to remember for generations to come!” Théoden spoke in pride as he held out his gold goblet filled with fine wine from Gondor. 

“Hail Eorl the Young!” 

As Elia had been pretty open with that she did not like the fat of pork and bacon from the beginning of her time being under the protection of her future husband, though she did eat ham and sausages when it was available after the autumn slaughter of livestock, no one would have found it strange to see her choose a stew with game meat together with potatoes instead. 

“I like potatoes since I grew used to the taste, but lately I have actually started to desire them far more often…” 

Naturally, as a woman who had been pregnant twice before, Elia knew how her body would change. Her increased fatigue could be blamed on that she was not just a crown princess with duties, she had two children to care for even with the help of the household maids. Also, it was not like she was one of those lucky women who were blessed with such regular menstruation that they knew exactly when it would come next. 

But Elia had a good guess to when her womb had accepted the seed of life from her husband: The first days of November. Six weeks previously, Théodred had been needed at Helm's Deep as the Second Marshal of the Riddermark, since that was the base of his command, and she had started her suspicions about a possible pregnancy while he was away for a whole month, not counting the time needed to travel between Edoras and Helm's Deep. 

“Somehow that would fit, a new royal heir born in the same month as the Oath of Eorl was sworn and the entire land of Calenardhon was given to him ro become the Kingdom of Rohan…” 

To be honest, Elia liked the thought of giving Rohan a royal child in that month, not merely for the symbolism. Unlike the Targaryens, Théodred came from a royal bloodline that was strong and healthy in terms of avoiding inbreeding, his grandmother Morwen had borne five healthy children who survived to adulthood, and the late Elfhild were not the first woman suffering a few miscarriages before a successful pregnancy. And 32 years, which she would turn in a month, was a good age for carrying a child under her heart as well. In fact, it made Elia feel closer to her own mother Aria, who had been that age when she had birthed her daughter and then her second son little over a year later. 

  
  


As they still were young, Rhaenys and Aegon had to go to bed early. But they had gotten to enjoy the feast and a nice bedtime tale from their bisabuela Morwen, as she allowed them to call her, before she had to return, so it was not all bad. 

“Mama have been tired a lot, right? Do you think she is being sick?” Aegon asked. Since the siblings were still young enough to share a bed without trouble, they laid under the same quilt. 

“I do not know. She did not seem that sad when feder had to be gone for a whole month, so yes, maybe she have a common cold that refuses to leave her body for some reason.”

They made a agreement to ask the cooks make something that would get rid of the cold, tomorrow or the day after. As it was Rhaenys' eight birthday tomorrow, their family would likely focus on that first. Aegon turned to his side in a attempt to fall asleep, when Rhaenys held in a surprised gasp and removed something from under the pillow. 

“Balerion,” was all she commented, holding up a big, fat dead mouse in the tail. Aegon made a face in disgust, since the housemaids hated to find any dead mice inside Meduseld when they cleaned. Rhaenys' beloved tomcat had an not so enjoyable habit of placing his catch in places where she and Aegon was most likely to be found.

“No nice early birthday gift,” he agreed, and Rhaenys temporarily left the bed to get rid of the mouse and then return. With some hope, her birthday gifts tomorrow from their family would be more enjoyable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Great West Road was the name of the portion of the Great Road east of the Fords of Isen and was known as a horse-road. Practically it connected Edoras with Minas Tirith where it was mentioned as the North-way. It is a major road in the Westlands built by the Númenóreans from the Second Age; it linked the northern kingdom of Arnor with the southern kingdom of Gondor.
> 
> In RL history, especially in Catholic countries, it is actually not unheard of that in a family with many daughters, only the oldest or prettiest daughter was married off while the rest was sent to become nuns in convents because of that the cost of dowry for all the daughters could be really expensive and often it was not seen kindly to have them marry a husband of lower social class either, not to mention the risk of getting caught up in scandals like pregnancy outside marriage that could damage the family's social reputation. So I imagine that the south of Westeros, and the Faith of Seven, might have a similar system for daughters from wealthy families where they either becomes septas or silent sisters
> 
> The Oath of Eorl, also called the Oath of Cirion, was the alliance sworn between the nations of Rohan and Gondor. The Oath was first sworn in August, T.A. 2510 by Cirion, the twelfth Ruling Steward of Gondor, and by Eorl, King of the Éothéod (later first King of Rohan) following the Battle of the Field of Celebrant. The Oath stated that the province of Calenardhon would be forever of Rohan, established its borders, and an alliance between the kingdoms. The two rulers swore their oaths on the Halifirien hill at the site of the Tomb of Elendil.
> 
> bisabuela means “great-grandmother” in Spanish, and I think that Elia might teach her children to call Morwen that in order to not confuse the term abulela when they speaks about her own mother Aria or the late Elfhild


	7. Lessons for life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaenys and Aegon enjoys riding as a part of growing up, while their grandfather Ihsan and aunt Mellario finds someone causing trouble

At the age of five, it was perfectly normal that Aegon was smaller than Rhaenys, and that she had already started to learn some of the first steps in riding on a pony under the watchful eye of a trainer because she was older. In fact, Rhaenys had already learned how to jump over small obstacles and do a leg yield, a big step in how to control the horse during the riding.

There was ponies for children found in Rohan, but they were less common than the light horses, coursers and draft horses which could be found nearly everywhere in Rohan. In general, only the wealthy could afford ponies for their children, as the children would eventually outgrow the pony and ending up riding horses as adults. 

“No, Firefoot, behave yourself and stand still for a moment so I can check on that hoof,” Éomer scolded the yearling colt when Aegon watched them from the open stable door, taking some shelter from the winter cold outside. When coming of age, it was tradition for a member of the royal family to be gifted a yearling as their own horse. The theory behind the horse being that young was not only to ensure that owner and horse would spend many years together as a team, it was also a way for the new owner to not rush with the horse until it was old and strong enough to be ridden. 

“Aegon?” Éomer asked when spotting the boy, “do you want to ride on Godiva for a bit?” 

“Yes.”

Godiva was the aged pony that once had been the first mount of both the King sister-son and sister-daughter, following them to Edoras when their uncle took them in after the death of his brother-in-law and sister. Nowadays she was mostly retired due to being in her 20s, but she still was a good pony for a beginner like Aegon.

  
  


Children in Rohan learned first to ride bareback, keeping hold on two handles of thick ropes sewn on a girth, to train on the balance before they got to sit in a real saddle. This was what Aegon now did, as Éomer led Godiva in one of the reins. 

“Good. Now we try a trot.” 

But suddenly, as everything went so well, Godiva stumbled without warning. Since her head lowered so much, Aegon slipped almost over her head at the same time as Éomer tried his best to avoid that the young boy fell off. Even a small pony could be unpleasant to fall off from when you were small. 

“There, there. She stumbled over a uneven part of the ground, perhaps a spot of slippy ice hidden under the snow.” 

After a few moments, Aegon felt brave enough to try some more, as Godiva was unharmed. 

  
  


Meanwhile Éowyn and Rhaenys was also riding. Just like her brother for Aegon, the royal sister-daughter had been tasked by her maternal uncle and cousin to try being a role model for the younger girl. As it was seven years between them and recalling the tales of how her own mother once had looked up to her three older sisters, Éowyn hoped that she would not mess up. After all, she was the only girl in the family outside Rhaenys, unless Elia gave birth to a second daughter. 

“It was really nice to get that letter from abuelo Ihsan on my birthday seven days ago, he writes really nice poems!” Rhaenys smiled, she had enjoyed said letter from her maternal grandfather very much. That Ihsan also had managed to send her a nice little gift in the form of several hair ribbons so she could tie up her hair when needed. 

“Yes, no wonder your modur says that he and fedra Théoden would find poem-making as something in common, if someone is around to help them with the language barrier.” 

While Rhaenys likely would not be one of the girls desiring to be a shield-maiden when growing up, Éowyn still thought that her talent for painting would be useful in the future as well. 

“Will you look for new painting colours at the market next time there is a merchant from Gondor?” 

“Yes! Lord Boromir promised that he would help Lothíriel sending letters, too!” 

Despite that she had not personally met the princess of Dol Amroth, Éowyn did not feel jealous at the thought of Rhaenys becoming pen pals with the other girl. After all, Théodred told her that both girls likely felt lonely at times with not having friends who looked similar to themselves, and that Boromir had hoped to fix that before it became a problem in the long run. 

“Right, I think we can ask her in your next letter if she knows any nice cake recipe that can be recreated here in Meduseld. At least one with some topping that I am unlikely to mess up.” 

Cooking anything beyond simple dishes was not Éowyn's strongest ability, but she showed some better success in decoration of cakes and sweets. And it felt like a huge step for that she at least no longer risked to burn anything. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, in Sunspear: 

It was the sound of something heavy falling over that alarmed Mellario right as she passed by the chamber where Ihsan kept all his research for a way to bring Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon home to Dorne.

“Sogro?!” she called in growing horror while dashing up the few three stone steps, fearing that something had happened to her father-in-law. If Ihsan suddenly suffered a stroke or something else that would damage his brain, they would lose all the hard work he had done so far. Mellario knew that he had written down everything he found, but it would still be a labyrinth of riddles and ancient mysteries that they had no idea how to interpret. 

When she entered the chamber, a part of her felt relief over that her father-in-law appeared to be unharmed, but at the same time, Ihsan was in the middle of wrestling on the floor with an unknown person, who tried to gasp hold of the parchment where Elia had written down the translation of the writing system used in Rohan. Ihsan did a good job in keeping the parchment just out reach in his hand, but she could hear that his asthma was getting triggered from what seemed to be a container with an incense whose fragrances that he absolutely could not be anywhere near of. 

“Mellario!” 

The Princess consort of Dorne did not waste any time. Rushing forwards, she used her own weight to force the unknown person off Ihsan and the same movement to slam their head into the stone wall behind. Simple, but effective way to knock someone out, as she once had learned in her youth back home in Norvos when a overdrunk guest of her noble father had tried to seduce her in a side corridor during a feast. 

“Sogro, are you alright?!” she asked, forcing up the window to let in the fresh sea winds and tossing out the incense container so the fragrance would not remain in the chamber.

“I thought it strange to hear someone enter without knocking when I had just sent the maid to the kitchen for something cool to drink, and my suspicions were confirmed when this servant tried to steal both Elia's letters, the map of Rohan and the translation from that casket here on the table that I always keeps locked when not here!” Ihsan responded, grabbing the shattered letters from the floor together with the map of Rohan and quickly placed them all back in the casket before locking it after a final check that nothing was remaining on the floor. After twisting her dupatta together as a improvised rope to tie up the unconscious thief, Mellario checked on her father-in-law for any injures just as Morgan Sand arrived to tell something important:

“Tío Ihsan, we just found out from my sister Holly that Varys have tried to place some of his “little birds” here in Sunspear in the hope of finding proof that we actually know where cousin Elia may be...what happened here?” 

Of course he was shocked by the sight of a person being knocked out and tied up in that manner since Ihsan did not allow people to enter this chamber as they pleased. Then, before he could answer, Ihsan began to get really bad, wheezing breath.

“Don't just stand there as a statue, Morgan, get the guards to bring this person to the dungeons and the maids to clear out this blasted incense fragrance!” Mellario snapped, bringing her father-in-law out from the chamber before his asthma attack got worse. It would be needed to be aired out for at least a day and night before he could enter there again. 

  
  


It did not take many hours, with some help of Oberyn using poisons to force out a confession, as the current Martell family learned the motive behind the attempted theft: 

Vaerys had sent two children from Essos that would be able to blend in among the Dornish, but the adult thief was actually a man from the Dornish Marches who had been acting on the orders of Tywin Lannister. The Sand Snakes and Arianne had caught the child-spies sneaking around when the children of servants in Sunspear generally was not allowed to be anywhere near the private rooms of the Martell family out of fear that something of their more valuable possessions might be stolen. 

“I think...that the  **_Two-faced Lion_ ** are really desperate to remove anything that could threat his grandsons by Cersei becoming the next Kings of Westeros. We all know that as long as Rhaenys and Aegon is still alive, they are a threat to the Baratheon-Lannister reign as Aegon would have been King Aegon VI the moment Aerys was slain by Jamie Lannister, and Tywin hoped to make Cersei the wife of Rhaegar before Aerys refused the match…” Doran said with great thoughtfulness over this new information. 

“I swear, that if I ever finds a functioning magical spell that transfer a woman's labour pains to the man who knocked her up and it is possible to alter said spell, I am going to let Tywin Lannister and other foolish men, who keeps dismissing women as that they are worth only for giving their husband children, have a full taste of how it feels for a woman to give birth without anything to numb the pain. Wonder how many are going to keep claiming that women are the weaker gender after that and how women feels afterwards when the body is healing after the birth?” Ihsan muttered for himself, thinking for himself that poor Rhaella might not have needed to suffer eleven pregnancies in her life, or becoming a first-time mother at the age of 14 if that had been a reality. 

“Count me and Ellaria in about a such spell, father!” Oberyn volunteered at once, earning himself a good-humoured slap in the head from the heavy-pregnant Ellaria at his side since she was not far from her due date now. 

While they could not move against Tywin and Varys without proof that it really was them who had sent the spies, the household servants and palace guards were ordered to always check unfamiliar people from now on, because Ihsan used the attempted theft as a example on that the Baratheon-Lannister reign did not trust them and would likely attempt to make it seem like House Martell actually was hiding Elia and her children somewhere in Dorne, as it was her homeland. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The leg-yield is a lateral movement in which a horse travels both forward and sideways at the same time. The horse is fairly straight through his body in the leg-yield, although he may have a slight bend opposite to the direction of travel.
> 
> I imagine that if they had been from Middle-earth, Rhaenys would have been born in the year 3002 and Aegon in the last few days of the year 3003 of the Third Age, so by being born in summer Éowyn is about seven and a half years older than Rhaenys
> 
> Sogro means Father-in-law in portuguese, and I thought that since Essos is a number of different cultures from Westeros, it is logical that Mellario would have a slightly different mother tongue than Doran 
> 
> Asthma attacks can indeed get triggered by certain fragrances, which is likely one of the reasons to why Ihsan never stayed in King's Landing for long while Aria was still the heiress of Dorne and lady-in-waiting to Rhaella. Imagine all the incense used by the Faith in their septs during divine service, the perfumes used by the court ladies as part of the court fashion and the smells from a city with no real sewer system and waste collection outside the Red Keep: A very real nightmare for a asthma suffer!


	8. Finding a way home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When orcs attacks, something unexpected happens

**_Finding a way home_ **

At Aegon's sixth birthday three days before the vernal equinox in year 3010 of the Third Age, it was no doubt about that Elia was expecting. She had not yet spoken about it, out of the understandable fear of a miscarriage and break raised hopes.

Still, she sought out Mereliss to at least let someone know. 

“A heir very likely to arrive in August, indeed,” Mereliss smiled after that she had finished the examination of Elia, “though I have to agree that it can be hard to say a rough timing, given that your monthly visitor is not that regular on the day it arrives.” 

“Exactly! I am happy to be with child because I want to give the House of Eorl a heir, but I am not sure if the Valar blessed me at the start of November or December because of that Théodred was gone for a whole month…”

And her monthly visitor had not arrived during that month because she, as the future queen consort, was the one being a hostess to some visitors from Gondor and also had to plan some of the schooling for her children. It had not been the most stressful situation for her, but a good example of her body acting up at random times. 

The midwife merely shrugged, as if that was not the most important. 

“As long as you manage to avoid a miscarriage and facing the same sad fate of your deceased mother-in-law, it should be fine.”

Elia knew at once what Mereliss meant. Elfhild, dead at the age of 30, in the same birth where she had given Théoden their son. Her cause of death was a postpartum bleeding, where she had lost so much blood after delivering her son that she only lived to the following dawn before she joined her ancestors in the afterlife. 

“I do not intend to bring up any bad memories for my father-in-law, his sister and mother. I am in a much more pleasant place than where Rhaenys and Aegon was born, with less pressure on me to have a male heir since there is two maternal cousins to my husband to help expanding the family once they finds a spouse each, and Théodred have said that he is fine if we ends up with a daughter instead of a son, if it is my fate to only have birthed three children.” 

Those words, as he had spoken to her about the possibility of children, showed what Elia loved about her second husband. That he would not be angry about her delivering a daughter, not after growing up surrounded by four aunts and a grandmother who helped his father to raise him among all the duties Théoden had as King of Rohan. 

“Oh, there is one tradition you can do in this situation that no one will find weird. Go to the burial mound where Elfhild lies and simply sit there for a mental talk. There is no harm in letting her know that she have a good chance of becoming a grandmother, even if there will be no response, of course.” 

Oh yes, Morwen had mentioned something similar once, Elia recalled, as they talked about previous queen consorts of Rohan. 

  
  


When the royal family of Rohan joined their people to celebrate the vernal equinox three days later, something unusual was spotted hanging from Elia's woven belt: 

A silver pendant, showing a mare and foal together. It was a unspoken hint to that Elia was praying to the Valar for a child, that she hoped to be blessed in motherhood soon. 

As she has married the Prince of Rohan as her second husband, and had two children from her previous marriage, it was only logical that she hoped to still be fertile, or at least giving the House of Eorl one child. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the beginning of May, when there was no doubt about that Elia had managed to pass the risky weeks where a miscarriage could end the pregnancy, Théodred brought his family along when he once again would travel to Helm's Deep. 

“I think it is good that Rhaenys and Aegon gets to come with us. Sure, the journey might not always be that fun for children, but I think it is better than being separated for a long time.”

Elia recalled how her daughter and son had missed their stepfather deeply when he had been gone during November last year, and refused to let him go away for long in the days following his return. As a result, Théodred had spent nearly everyday with his stepchildren whatever he could between his duties. 

“My Prince! Princess!” 

One of the younger riders in the Éored, Tirwald, suddenly rode up to them from where he had been sent out earlier for scouting. 

“I met a rider from the Wolf clan among the Dunlendings, there is a huge group of orcs and wargs coming this way! He returned to gather more warriors from his clan, and promised to help out as soon as they can!” 

Oh no, exactly what they did not need right now. Elia knew that the Dunlendings were not that fond of the Rohirrim because they originally had been living in Calenardhon before it was given to Eorl the Young and changed into the Kingdom of Rohan, but a very small number of clans among them found it better to at least try to be neutral only in possible conflicts between the two peoples, and contributed to killing orcs at the northern border in exchange for being allowed to live in a separate part of in north Westfold because they otherwise risked to get into trouble with their people. 

“Elia…” 

She looked her husband in the eyes, understanding his fear for her and the children. 

“Leave a few of the more inexperienced men as protection for us, and led the rest to attack. Defense can be done whatever you are a seasoned warrior or not.” 

Of course, this meant that Rhaenys and Aegon had to leave their places in front of each parent's saddle, and instead was seated together in a saddle on one of the extra horses so they could escape together if it came to a such situation, which they knew to not be normal: 

“Feder said that we are not to ride Bede or any of the other horses! We need to be Éowyn's height before that!” 

Well, Elia felt some relief that they at least listened to their stepfather, and Théodred gave himself time to explain that this was not a normal situation, how they needed to obey their mother and keep riding if she ordered it. 

“Here, Elia. Just for your own protection.”

A spear might not be that useful in close combat, but it was very useful to keep an enemy at a distance from oneself.

“Here they comes! **_CHANGE!!_ **” 

The plan was to try and keep the battle far away from those who remain behind, for the wargs would likely smell Rhaenys and Aegon, perhaps even Elia from a distance, since young children and pregnant women often was a easier prey to kill either because of size or not being able to run as fast as usual. 

“Madre…” 

Elia knew that both her children was scared, not merely from the sounds of battle they heard behind one of the hills to the right, and to be honest, all she wanted was to get away to some form of safety. 

“ **_Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken._ **” 

She kept whispering the words of House Martell for herself in a attempt to keep herself calm, to not let the panic inside her take control. Then she heard Rhaenys suddenly say something: 

_Unbowed for outside powers_

_Unbent in what we stands for_

_Unbroken line of descent_

It was not her daughter's normal voice. It was the voice of a adult woman, in a language Elia barely could understand thanks to the life-long research by her father Ihsan on how people had spoken the Common Tongue in Dorne before Nymeria arrived. 

_Blood of my kin,_

_gather together_

_Enemies of my blood,_

_stay away from us_

_My line shall remain_

_hidden from the betrayer_

_and those of his blood_

How was this possible? She had never taught Rhaenys even a few sentences in the old language, because neither she nor Aegon needed that knowledge. And then Elia felt her right palm as if it was burning, the same feeling of grabbing a red-glowing piece of iron without any sort of protection. But when she took a moment to look, it was a glowing image of a spear. 

“Mama!”

She was brought back to reality by Aegon's cry, and the sight of not just one orc riding on a warg right towards her group but several who had avoided death in the battle so far, Théodred and his men not far behind. 

“Get my family away from here!!” 

Appenely the sound of Théodred's familiar voice was enough to break whatever trance Rhaenys had been in, for she blinked in confusion before screaming in terror at seeing the orcs. 

“ **_Feder!_ **” 

In the next moment, something changed in the air. The wind suddenly felt warmer, and there was a scent of salt as well. When Elia looked up to see where the warmer air came from, she saw one familiar sight she had not seen in nearly nine years:

The long, flat beach that was found at the Water Gardens, three leagues to the west of Sunspear on a coastal road. If she guessed right by the familiar landmarks she managed to see, the portal had opened closer to Sunspear than the Water Garden. If they rode straight to Sunspear without losing too many men...

“Théodred! Follow me! We will act as bait for the remaining orcs!”

Her husband was not fully sure what she intended, but he saw the portal right behind her and did not protest as Elia took the lead, her children and the riders right behind. Looking over her shoulder and seeing the portal close once everyone of the Éored had followed Théodred in crossing between the two worlds, she silently prayed for that this would not prove a mistake, that would trap Théodred and his men in Dorne for several years because no one knew how that portal between the godswood in the Red Keep and Fangorn Forest once had been formed. 

“Tirwald! Shoot a arrow on that flag over there on top of that stone hill!” 

As the young rider of Rohan did so, the flag with the sign of House Martell suddenly went up in flames because the arrow knocked over a small lamp with fire upon a pile of firewood soaked in oil to catch fire quickly. It was a signal acting as a beacon to Sunspear that some form of attack was happening to a group of travelers outside the city. 

“Padre! Doran! Oberyn! Please come and help us!” 

Her family and the city guards of Sunspear would notice the beacon and the signal for help from the Old Palace, she did not doubt that. Until that help arrived, they had to avoid the orcs killing anyone or too many of the riders of Rohan getting injured. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Mereliss advising Elia to visit Elfhild's grave, I imagine that it is something done to avoid people learning about a pregnancy before the first 12 weeks have passed, because of the risk of a miscarriage. Also, a simple way of showing respect for the woman who would have been her mother-in-law if Elfhild had lived 
> 
> Tirwald is a Old English male name meaning “powerful fame” and the name Bede means “prayer”


	9. Meeting the in-laws

Ihsan had not been alone in the Sandship and trying to decode the old letters, this time. Some of his granddaughters had came along when they spotted him walking down the previously unknown stairwell. Arianne, Tyene and Sarella watched him while he was trying to compare the text on the wall with the text written on very old, fragile parchments. They knew that he could read old texts, but this seemed to be a very problematic one even for him. 

“Abuelo, do you know why those strange letters was covered over with plaster?” Tyene asked, tracking her fingers on the wall but not touching the faded letters themselves because her grandfather did not like when they did so. 

“No. It is a mystery I hope to find out, when we have found a way for your aunt and cousins to return home and yet still be able to return to Rohan. We would prove ourselves a poor set of in-laws if we steals the crown princess of Rohan away when she is carrying the heir to the future king.” 

But Ihsan had given them a task: to try and copy the wall text as carefully as they could, for it was possible that the darkness inside this chamber was the problem in contrast to the sunlight outside, and that the light from the touch made it harder to read. 

“This word actually confuses me, because in some languages a word can have different meanings. For example, most people think that valonqar is High Valyrian for “little brother”, but the actual meaning is “younger sibling” with no hints to gender. Here, I am not sure whatever to read the word as offsprings or descendants…” 

Sarella looked closer at the word he pointed at, then thinking of the two meanings when glancing back at her notes about what he just had said. She decided to try to pronounce both versions aloud, one at a time:

“When more than nine offsprings are born to House Martell between three siblings, be aware of its hidden meaning, for the Dark One are around to haunt us. Enemies of my kin, fear the wrath of the Ruler whose blood runs in our veins. Fear his magic, fear his power that was passed down to his his distant heirs.” 

Nothing happened, and somehow it did not sound like it was meant to be said like a spell. Instead, Sarella tried to make it sound more song-like with the other version:

_ When more than nine descendents are born to House Martell between three siblings, be aware of its hidden meaning, for the Dark One are around to haunt us. Enemies of my kin, fear the wrath of the Ruler whose blood runs in our veins. Fear his magic, fear his power that was passed down to his distant heirs. _

Suddenly, something changed as she tried to sing it. The very atmosphere in the Sandship seemed to grow thicker, and the letters on the wall was glowing. 

“Abuelo, I do not like this…” Arianne admitted with increasing discomfort, with Tyene mirroring her alarmed face. Naturally, Ihsan's inner sense for overnatural dangers was triggered as well, especially when Sarella seemed to enter a trance and sang something else in the ancient language:

_ Blood of my kin, _

_ gather together _

_ Enemies of my blood, _

_ stay away from us _

_ My line shall remain _

_ hidden from the betrayer _

_ and those of his blood  _

Ihsan refused to risk that his granddaughters did something neither one of them had any control over. And magic was one of those things, proven when it felt like the whole ancient keep began to tremble below their feet. 

“Sarella, stop singing at once! Girls, get out now! Get out, no protests!”

He pushed out Arianne and Tyene towards the stairwell, and grabbed Sarella to carry her like a sack of grain over one shoulder because she made no movements to follow. 

  
  


Doran and Oberyn had been doing a mostly friendly sibling duel with their spears in one of the courtyard, when both of them suddenly felt a sharp pain from their respective right palm. As they both had been blocking a attack from the other brother in that moment, the logical first thought was that it had gotten a little too powerful in strength for what would be a training match. But when looking, the glowing image of a spear was there. 

“Again…?” 

“Something is happening inside the Sandship, my Princes!” one of the servants cried out in fear, since Ihsan and three of his granddaughters just arrived outside the original keep of House Martell and the former Prince Consort looked like he had just seen something akin to a ghost inside. And right after that, a palace guard came running: 

“The distress beacon have been set on fire! There is a attack roughly half a league outside Sunspear to the west, from where the Water Gardens are!” 

Looking at his brother as the only warning of what he planned, Oberyn dashed off to join the city guards who was already on duty for those situations, since he was wearing a armour suited for the hot weather but still more than enough as protection in a fight more serious than a friendly duel. 

“I will be back soon, Doran! Check on the Sandship and whatever our father is doing in there, will you?” 

Not that Doran was that surprised, his ten years younger brother had always been like this from the moment he had mastered the art of crawling around as a baby, making it a lot harder to keep him in control and out of danger. 

“Oberyn!! You promised to watch the girls so I could have a proper rest this afternoon!” 

Somewhere on a balcony above him, Doran heard Ellaria yelling some less than elegant words at his brother for dashing off to danger instead of spending time with three-year-old Eliana and four-months-old Obella as he had promised her this morning. Well, his brother would regret running off later when he returned back to Sunspear, no doubt. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

So far, about half of the huge group of orcs and wargs had been killed, but to the cost of several riders getting injured or even dying because either the orcs or the rider-free wargs got a lucky strike. Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon had been well protected until now, yet she did not want to ride too far away because it would mean a high risk of danger if the enemy followed. 

“Madre!! Feder!” 

Because Rhaenys and Aegon truly was too small to ride a horse, and neither one reaching the stirrups either, one of them ended up sliding off the saddle because the gallop movements made it harder to sit steady in the saddle and dragging the other sibling along to the ground. While this thankfully were not the first time they fell off a horse or pony, the children being on the ground meant that one incoming warg would easily catch one of them if no one killed it quickly. 

“Aldor!” Elia screamed to her husband's second-in-command who was not far away, as she was unable to do anything herself without a weapon even as two of her guards hurried to defend her children. He threw himself between her children and the warg, but its weight knocked him over when he raised his shield to protect himself better and there was the sickening sound of bones being broken as the warg put the powerful jaws in his unprotected leg.

“Aldor!” 

Suddenly a shadow appeared from the small hill to her left, and a spear was thrown into the neck of the warg. 

“ _ To the spears! _ ”

The ancient war cry of Dorne, as she had heard during military training during her childhood. 

“About time that they arrives,” she muttered for herself, but still feeling some pride at seeing her people arrive to help out in the battle. And one of the shields, with a red viper painted on, revealed who the leader was; Oberyn, thought that was not fully seen since he had his helmet on and the long white scarf around to prevent the unmerciful desert sun beat down on the metal.

“Aldor!” 

Now when the warg was dead and the Dornish warriors helping to turn the battle around, Elia could dismount and run over to the warrior, where Rhaenys and Aegon was already trying to help removing his riding boot of leather for a better view on the wound. 

“Not good, we need Baldric or another of the healers to help…” 

“ **_Elia?!_ ** ”

With none of the strange, overgrown wolves and the unfamiliar creatures riding close to him, Oberyn allowed himself to look closer on the only woman and children in the group that had been attacked. Given that Rhaenys took after her maternal kin, one look on Aegon and the white horse on the green background on the banner told him who they were. Hr took off his helmet to prove his identity, and rode closer. 

“Oberyn, wait with coming closer for a moment…!” 

Too late. Théodred, who had been aiming for one of the last wargs alive and now spotted it being a little too close to his family for his own inner comfort, came riding towards them in top speed. 

“ **_HEY!! THAT'S MY WIFE AND MY CHILDREN!!_ ** ” 

Proving why he was a such feared warrior even among the Rohirrim, the Prince of Rohan shot a arrow from his bow, killing the warg on a longer distance that actually impressed Oberyn. 

“What a change from “ _ not my secret family _ ” a few years ago…” Aldor tried to joke in a whisper to Elia, but now the battle adrenaline had dropped and been replaced by large amount of pain, so he could not talk much. 

“Théodred pengel!” 

Now when all the enemies was dead and the Dornish warriors helping to catch all the horses that had lost their riders during the battle, he could see the full damage. His Éored had lost fifteen men to death, and at least twice that number were badly injured. 

“Elia! Rhaenys! Aegon!” 

“Feder!” 

She made no moment to stop her children to running over to Théodred. Elia knew that her brother had a minor weakness for those he found handsome by both genders, and when her husband removed his helmet, she did not doubt for a moment what would happen. Compared to Rhaegar, Théodred was undoubtedly gorgeous for those who felt drawn to a more rugged, manly appearance instead of the unhealthy Targaryens. 

“ **_Oberyn. That magnificent hunk is the golden stallion I call my second husband and I am not sharing him._ ** ” 

At those words, her brother looked like someone had dumped a bucket of freezing cold water on him from above. 

“Seven hells, Elia! He is making that damn dragon look like one of the Others from behind the Wall!!” 

She would have loved to respond in something that marked her as the daughter of her parents, but they had several injured Rohirrim to bring back to Sunspear for treatment. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Back in Sunspear, 16-year-old Obara and 14-year-old Nymeria was unhappy over that Mellario had prevented them from joining their father and the soldiers. Doran had not stopped his wife from doing so, since she was the highest ranking woman here in Dorne by being his consort and also held power over the female side of the court. 

“I know that you would have loved to fight as well, but none of us adults would have been happy if you got injured…” 

Then a signal horn was blown, the one to tell the city guards to open the road leading directly to the Old Palace. Some people had to be injured from the attack, the princess consort guessed and she sent the two adolescents to make themselves useful in the hospital building by helping the Rhoynar healers. 

“Hold on, that banner is not one I have seen in the lists of various noble families here in Westeros…” 

Mentally counting the exactly number of people arriving in the courtyard, seeing the banner of Rohan, and a woman who could be no one else than her until now missing sister-in-law with her two children in the led beside Oberyn and a man that looked exactly like the drawing Elia had sent by her second husband. 

“By the three bells of Norvos, what a handsome warrior she have found!” she gasped in wonder at seeing Théodred, then slapped her cheeks lightly to think more clearly: 

“Doran, please welcome them! I must prepare guest rooms for everyone and find some of the children's cast-offs for Rhaenys and Aegon to borrow in this warmth! Damn for that Elia and I am of different sizes and height, she will have to borrow either Ellaria dresses from her pregnancies or some of the few remaining ones of Aria's dresses! What a great luck that Elia sent measurements in one letter so I could have my ladies help me sew some Dornish clothing for prince Théodred to have as a surprise for him when they finally came home!”

By this, Mellario once again showed that she took her duties as a hostess seriously, and it was one of the things Doran greatly respected her for. The palace servants would likely spread the word of Elia's return, soon enough, as well. 

  
  


Of course, some other family members was already there at the court yard when they saw who that had arrived. The oldest Sand Snakes, for example, who recalled their paternal aunt best out of the younger generation. 

“Tía Elia! You are back!!”

She just barely managed to push over Rhaenys to Théodred who already has Aegon hiding behind his stepfather for security in this unknown place, before her nieces caught her in a group hug. 

“You have been gone for so long, tía! Why have you not come earlier?!” 

Oh dear, they must be feeling a mixture of different emotions over this. But Elia did not blame the natural daughters of her little brothers about reacting so, she was filled with relief over finally being home in her birth land again.

“I did not want to return with House Lannister searching for us three still, and there was a unexpected protector here and his homeland I did not want to drag into that mess.” 

When she looked up to see the entrance gate to the Old Palace, she saw two of the other two men she had missed so during her five years in Rohan:

Doran and their father Ihsan. There was no words needed when she went over to them, to be caught in a tight hug. 

“Elia. We need to tell my men what happened, we can not lie about crossing between our worlds,” Théodred spoke in the Common Tongue to her, not wanting to ruin her joy over reuniting with her family but they could not delay it. 

“Yes,” she responded, and it seemed like her brothers and father also realized that, “Torwald, you are one of the best among my husband men to speak basic words of my mother tongue when you desired to help by learning. Can I trust you to help the stable grooms with the horses? We need to check on the injured in the hospital building.” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

Théodred then turned his attention to his stepchildren: 

“Rhaenys, Aegon. The older man there is your maternal grandfather Ihsan. Can you follow him and your uncles Doran and Oberyn indoors for some rest? Your modur and I needs to see how my men are doing with being treated by the healers here, and I do not think you would want to see more blood and hear more screaming today.” 

The sibling duo was hesitant to leave their parents, but Ihsan proved himself very much used to young children by suddenly sitting down on the stone steps with his back against the stone pillar and pulling out a small, leather-bound book with his own gathered stories from the inside of his sherwani while saying in a kind choice: 

“Well, I can loudly read out a child-friendly version of the story with Nymeria of Ny Sar and how she wed Mors Martell before they became the rulers of Dorne, at least.” 

Elia could tell from Doran's facial expression that had they been alone inside one of the family rooms, he would have facepalmed at the sight and muttered something about their sire once again proving himself being a infamous bookworm. But the curiosity of Rhaenys had been awakened, and she boldly walked over to her grandfather with Aegon joining her not long after. Oberyn made a hand sign that told Elia that he would be found in his private chambers if she needed him later. 

“Come on, Théodred. We must look to your men.”

She guided him to the building on the left, mentally trying to figure out the best way to explain the truth about that she actually was from a different world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually made up that valonqar is meant to translate to “younger sibling”, but I wanted the meaning to be a little more flexible for this story because in RL languages changes over centuries and sometimes a word can mean two different things
> 
> Originally I was thinking of having Théodred and Oberyn end up in a wrestling match where Oberyn honestly tries to flirt with the unknown warrior before finding out that it is his new brother-in-law thanks to Elia's comments, but I chose to spare that for another scene or chapter 
> 
> I chose to have Obara born in 272 A.C, Nymeria in 274 A.C and Tyene in 276 A.C, as Martin have not given a exact birth year for the three oldest Sand Snakes and as I mentioned in a author note from Foreign Lands, I like the idea of Ihsan gaining three grandchildren in less than a year from all three of his children with Rhaenys born in 280 and Sarella sharing a birth year with Quentyn in 281.


	10. Healing in Dorne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rohirrim soldiers gets medicinal treatment, and in King's Landing Cersei is not happy with her life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was delayed in writing partly for me returning to work last week and it currently being a heatwave in my part of Sweden which left me with not much energy for writing, ugh! // Rogercat

Thankfully when Elia and Théodred entered the hospital building, everything suggested that there would be no more deaths among the Rohirrim. Most of them were getting their injuries treated by the healers and their mostly unharmed comrades, despite the language differences plain old sign language and pointing on things worked well, while two or three had been carried into some adjusting chambers where operations used to be performed if it proved necessary. 

“My Prince, princess!” 

“What exactly happened before? This is not the Mark or Gondor, we know the border area well enough…” 

Elia took a deep breath, this was not something that could be explained easily. Her husband and in-laws had accepted the truth of her origins once they had given some time to think about it. Sitting him down on a free stool, she checked over her husband for injuries. He had managed to avoid sword cuts and such that could cause an infection or possible poisoning from the weapons used by the orcs, thankfully, but she still wanted to personally look after him. Besides, she was used to almost strip him down to only his braies in front of his men on travels, and they were used to see each others naked as the day they were born if the members of the Éored agreed to take a bath in the rivers of Rohan when the weather was very, very warm. 

“We will tell, but first we need to ensure that everyone has gotten medicinal attention,” Théodred promised, giving his wife a chance to figure out how to start the whole story while pretending to check over one of his hands. On the other hand, the Rohirrim were not ignorant of magic since Gandalf would sometimes show up, which would make some of the reveal easier. Just in case, she sent her two oldest nieces to, with the help of a few servants, bring some chilled water flavored with mint, blood orange and melon. As much as she was happy to be back in Dorne, she could feel how her pregnant body would not enjoy its heat much because she was used to the constant winds of Rohan those days and she worried about how the sudden change in climate would affect her husband and his men. A heat stroke was not a good first impression of Sunspear, even if they were in a stone building that remained cool even during the worst heat of the day. 

  
  
  


While Rhaenys and Aegon had been lucky to avoid any worse injuries, Ihsan proved himself once again to be sharp-eyed when it came to his many grandchildren, quickly spotting a few abrasions they received in the fall from the saddle. He did not blame his daughter or son-in-law for not noticing it earlier, they had been in the middle of a battle, after all. 

“Had it not been the next generation, I would have thought it to be your mother and her younger brother getting themselves into trouble again. They are only a little over a year in age difference, just like you two, so you are more alike than what many might think,” he spoke kindly as he cleaned Rhaenys' elbow with a wet rag to remove the dirt. She had not gotten any wounds, thankfully, but it was fully understandable if it did sting a little. There were a couple of abrasions on Aegon's left knee and hands that needed to be cleaned, but they looked like they would heal without needing stitches or bandages. 

“Arianne, do not rush over now. Your cousins have just seen a not very child-friendly battle and need to have peace and quiet until their parents return,” Ihsan requested to his 12-year-old granddaughter, who peeked out from a pillar not far from where her grandfather had brought her cousins. Just like for Elia almost a year previously when she had mistaken the Princess of Dol Amroth for her niece on a distance, Rhaenys first thought that Arianne was Lothíriel because of the similar body build and clothing between the two girls, before realizing that it was not her penpal from Dol Amroth. Still, the future Princess of Dorne respected her grandfather and kept her distance for now. 

  
  


It took over three hours before Elia and Théodred left the hospital building. Telling the truth had been spiritually draining, not helped by the fatigue caused by her pregnancy. The riders in the Éored had been very shocked to learn that their future queen actually came from a different world, but at hearing that she and her children most likely would have been killed if Théodred had not showed up to save them nearly five years ago, they agreed that it sounded exactly like him to do a such thing. And at least his men felt some comfort in that her family was already trying to find a way between the two worlds so she could visit her homeland without needing to be stranded there, and that their crossing today might have been a result of a good first success. 

“Finally...a quick rub down over all my body with a wet towel from a washbasin, changing into something light and airy and then a nap before meeting with everyone again.” 

“Sounds like a good plan. It is a bit of a temperature difference between our homes, indeed.”

Because her pregnancy made her extra tired, Théodred ended up carrying his wife up the stairs and corridors over to where her childhood rooms were. Even on the way, he managed to be impressed with the building style of the Old Palace, because it was nothing like Minas Tirith, and still different from the drawings of how castles and palaces would look like in the East. It was truly a different world she had been born into. 

“ _ Meduseld is more  _ **_cozy_ ** _ compared to where I once lived, but the White City is the mightiest stronghold I have seen in my life so far. _ ”

Those words were what she had said at seeing the capital of Gondor. If she found Edoras and the Golden Hall far more pleasing to live in, than where she had lived as the future queen consort of Westeros, then it spoke only more truthfully about that she had not enjoyed her first marriage at all. 

Rhaenys and Aegon, freshly cleaned and dressed in what had to be borrowed clothes from their cousins, were already asleep side by side on the bed. But the family was used to sharing a bed together during the winter months to keep warm, even if it got a little cramped nowadays since the children would not remain little forever and because it would not be long before their unborn sibling needed more space. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

While there was not many in the rest of Westeros that would have noticed the portal because it was all the way down in Dorne, there was something else that happened in the royal court King's Landing: 

“Another girl?”

“How many princesses are the Queen going to have, before getting a second son that actually is born alive?” 

Cersei had given birth to her fourth child three days prior, and she was not the only one being disappointed over that it was a second princess. But it were not only the pure Baratheon look on little princess Elinor that made her Lannister mother resent her newborn daughter, but also that people openly spoke of her poor Joffrey, that should have been two years old now if he had lived at birth or at least been saved by the maesters and midwives attempting to revive him from the relentless stranglehold around his little neck from the umbilical cord. 

“ _ Why could they not have been switched? My golden son with Jaime alive, and all my children by Robert dead in the cradle or, preferably, stillborn! _ ” 

She threw a glare towards her twin brother, where he stood beside his wife among the courtiers who stood in line to congratulate her on having a healthy, strong child, even though it sadly was the wrong gender. How dared Rayelle show herself in public here at court, with all the proof for everyone to see that she would give House Lannister a new child too in only three months? On top of that, they had dragged Tyrion along! 

The only pleasure Cersei felt for a moment was the knowledge that Tyrion would be booted out of Casterly Rock together with his one year older wife once her dwarf brother had come of age and wed her. A daughter of a landed knight, marrying into House Lannister? What a joke, had not Cersei known from her father that it was a plan to ensure that Tyrion would never be Lord of Casterly Rock and head of House Lannister. The more children his golden twins had, and Cersei giving Robert enough children that one of them could be her own heir to Casterly Rock since daughters were behind their brothers to inherit the Iron Throne, the lower Tyrion sunk in the succession. 

“I need to get alone with Jaime soon...if he can give me a second child of his seed...a golden son or daughter…” 

But Cersei knew that it was too soon for a new pregnancy yet. She had gotten a year to heal from the loss of Joffrey because of the massive grief that still was there within her, before Robert came to her bed again. She did not want to lose her slender figure and become a shapeless joke of womanhood like the time she as a twelve-year-old girl had sneaked over to Maegor's Holdfast and spotted Rhaelle Targaryen naken in the bath, thin from small meals with sagging breasts, stretch marks on her belly as evidence of many pregnancies and nowhere close to the youthful looks she once had. 

“ **_Are you this shocked to see the reality of how a female body changes after many pregnancies, daughter of Joanna?_ ** ” 

Cersei had run off before any more words could be spoken, but even today she recalled how Rhaella made no attempt to hide her body in the bath, as if the last Targaryen queen had wanted her to remember that sight now when she was a mother as well. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

When Elia woke up, the sun was lower in the sky, the orange colour telling that it was early evening. But a familiar face was seen in the slightly open door. Her sister by marriage, if not by blood ties.

“Mellario! I am really sorry that we showed up without warning, but I really have no idea how that portal between the worlds happened...” 

“I think sogro might be able to explain that better than me. Something did happen today when he was in the Sandship with some of the girls,” Mellario responded in a low voice since the children and Théodred had not awoken yet. They met in a careful hug, because the Princess consort of Dorne knew how it felt to be dizzy when you were pregnant and just woke up from sleep. 

In the past, the two sisters-in-law had bonded over a shared interest in embroidery and how that needlework could enrich clothing if it was made in a fabrice with just one colour. It also helped that Mellario had not viewed the marriage between Elia and Rhaegar as being something promising to be good. Perhaps it was a basic instinct where she somehow felt that a couple would be well-matched or not, but also Mellario growing up on old stories and tales where people from Valyria were the villains, painted to sound like living ghosts because there was actually people in this world who did not find such pale skin, various shades of silver-gold or platinum white hair and purple eyes attractive. And nowadays, Elia had joined those people after seeing how her first husband hid a less than pleasant personality behind a handsome face. 

“I used your information from the letters and told the servants to serve his men simple food with as little species as possible and lots of fruit juice together with cold water flavored with fruit pieces and berries. So far there have been no disagreements, as I know for the moment.”

Good, that meant she or Théodred could check on the men once the family dinner was finished. 

“Dinner is ready in half a hour, so I thought I could hand over this so you can dress up.”

More clothes for her children to borrow from their cousins, a loose silk dress in orange that likely was from Ellaria as she knew Oberyn paramour to have given birth four months ago and all women knew the comfort of looser clothing as the pregnant belly kept expanding in size, and finally, something that made Elia smile in joy.

“You managed to make a sherwani and belonging pants in the colours of Rohan!”

Yes, if her husband did not draw a lot of attention on the way to the dining room, Elia would wonder if people were blind. Théodred was a true prince and future King, someone who she would pick immediately over Rhaegar if she ever was to find herself back in time. The mental image of leaving Dragonstone with her daughter and son as soon as Rhaegar left them to run off with Lyanna Stark...how nice as an indirect revenge wouldn't that be? Rhaegar returning from the Tower of Joy, only to find himself missing a wife and two legal children so they could not be used as hostages against Dorne, and her family refusing to send the ten thousand soldiers to the Targaryens. The royalists would suffer an even greater defeat since no one would know where the royal children were hiding with their mother. 

“See you in half an hour, Mellario. I will wake up those three sleepyheads now.” 

Well, as Elia saw when turning around, Aegon was sitting up in bed between his sister and stepfather, but his half-open eyes spoke of that he was still almost fully asleep. Sometimes he did so before laying down again. 

“Pretty lady…” 

A weak attempt to wave at Mellario, then falling back against the pillows with his eyes closed. Elia and her sister-in-law shared a smile at that sight. 

“He have good teachers in manners, that cutie.” 

Mellario closed the door again so they could have some privacy while dressing up later, and Elia focused on the task of waking her family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Braies are a type of trouser worn by Celtic and Germanic tribes in antiquity and by Europeans subsequently into the Middle Ages. In the later middle ages they were used exclusively as undergarments. Braies generally hung to the knees or mid-calf, resembling what are today called shorts. They were made of leather, wool, or, in later years, cotton or linen.
> 
> Also, FINALLY found a nice face claim for Théodred in terms of who his actor would be for the PJ movies from 2001-03: Tom Hopper, in his role as Asbjörn in the 2014 movie Northmen: A Viking Saga
> 
> Elinor is a variant of Eleanor, originally from a Franco-Provençal name Aliénor. It is the name of a number of women of the high nobility in western Europe during the High Middle Ages and I liked the sound of Elinor Baratheon
> 
> Tyrion is born in 273 A.C, so he would be fifteen in 288 and one year from being viewed as an adult man at sixteen. And yes, Cersei and Jaime are both feeling that as long as Tywin is still alive, they are both stuck with the duty of giving him grandchildren to carry on the Lannister legacy. 
> 
> Given that poor Rhaella ended up pregnant no less than 11 times over 24 years of her life, I think they left their marks on her even when there was a longer period between them such as the eight-year-gap between Viserys and Danenerys. And Cersei, who is very proud of her beauty in canon, would naturally loathe the mere thought of looking that way because she can not understand why she nowadays get allergic reactions to moon tea and can only use sexual abstinence to avoid pregnancies with Robert 
> 
> The inspiration for the sherwani Mellario have sewn for Théodred: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/70/a0/fc/70a0fc1ec6f20203ff48238a1e60ea1a.jpg


	11. Returning to Rohan, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elia and her family have a much-missed family meal, and then tries to find a way home to Rohan

Just as she had promised Mellario, Elia was very delighted by the sight of Théodred wearing the clothes made by her sister-in-law. Even with him keeping his long hair in his usual braids, he was still eye-catching in a vigorous manner that not even Jaime Lannister would be able to do. 

“You are so stunning that I would worry about you if we were not married,” she said, and being the fellow adult, he did nod as a hint to catch the unspoken meaning that was not to be spoken around young ears. After all, Rhaenys and Aegon were a little too young to know that attractive people of both genders could face unwanted attention and how that beauty could sometimes actually be more of a curse than a blessing. 

“It is good that we are married then.” 

Rhaenys and Aegon were also dressed in the new set of clothes borrowed from their cousins for the family dinner, while Elia enjoyed the loose dress she had gotten to borrow from Ellaria. She had only met the Sand daughter of Harmen Uller a few times before her marriage, but that was mostly thanks to Ellaria not having a occupation in the court of Sunspear yet and Elia needing to learn all the important things about the royal court that would soon become her home after marriage and everything else among the wedding preparations that needed to be done before her departure. 

“So, let us meet my big family together.”

  
  


Somehow, all the children had been caught by the servants, scrubbed in the bath and dressed up nicely. 

“Stand still now when they enter and act nicely during dinner! This is the first time meeting your cousins and new uncle, so please act your best behavior now, you can show more of the wild side of yourselves tomorrow! He is a foreign prince, so he must be treated with respect!” Mellario warned the younger generation with all the sternness she had learned from her late mother-in-law Aria. After all, this was the first impression Théodred would have of them face to face. 

“All the respect we never have given the Dragon Prince. After all, he saved your aunt and cousins from death, acted as their protector and accepted them as his own family long before they married,” Doran hurried to add in, to show how serious this was. 

“Princess Elia and her family, my princes and princesses.” 

Given that Elia was the one who would be able to translate the two languages best, it was only natural that she presented them all in the right order of birth and how they were related. 

“Your Graces.” 

In spite of that he had never worn the sherwani before, Théodred managed to sink on one knee that showed his upbringing as a royal prince, as well proper respect for his in-laws. 

“Please rise, prince Théodred. You are a member of this family through marriage to our sister, not a servant.” 

Aegon was a bit unsure around those strangers, so it was perfectly normal that he held onto his stepfather's pant leg to feel safe. Rhaenys, who felt a little braver with her parents around, made a curtsy to show herself having good manners. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

On Mellario's orders, the cooks of the Old Palace had cooked a chicken paella, hummus to dip pita bread in, yoghurt sauces flavored with mint, lamb pinchitos, cheese-filled empanada, boiled eggs, dunk with lemons, salads with the vegetables of the current season, all served with various wines and even imported beer and mead as Elia had confessed in her letters home that the Rohirrim rarely had wine due to not growing grapes. As dessert, there was fruit such as pomegranate, oranges, peaches and melon. 

Despite that it was not food they were used to from Rohan, Rhaenys and Aegon listened to Elia when she asked them to at least try the dishes before saying that they did not like it. Being a picky eater past toddler age was something frowned upon in her new homeland, since many saw it as a waste of food and the picky eater just causing trouble for those who made the food. It was why many were pleased to see that Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon had grown to love potatoes in all the ways they could be turned into food dishes since it was a common food source in Rohan, and she knew the political message of being able to adjust to a new culture. 

“This omelette needs the pieces of potatoes,” Rhaenys even commented when she ate some of the omelette, feeling that something was missing, her brother looking as if he thought the same when tasting the omelette as well. Thankfully, Théodred and Elia had already talked about how to explain that difference in Dornish food for the children:

“Rhaenys. Potatoes as a crop is not something that can grow with ease in a desert climate. They need well-drained soil, and do not grow well under high temperatures. But we hope that some trade between Rohan and Dorne will ensure that potatoes will become a favorite here too.” 

At least, that was what Elia hoped, if they could find a way to not be dependent on the portals showing up randomly. 

“Really?” her daughter wondered, then looked like she was worrying about being rude to her maternal relatives without actually meaning it. 

“I missed some of the food dishes from my native Norvos too when I moved here after marrying your uncle,” Mellario hurried to say when she caught on what Rhaenys had said, saving Elia's daughter from embarrassment. 

  
  
  


Before they joined the children for sleep after the family dinner, Elia gave her husband a private tour around the Old Palace. 

“It is a wonderful place, even now when the night is not bringing it out in full glory,” he smiled as they walked in the palace gardens. A faint kick in her belly seemed to agree despite that her baby was unable to see anything. 

“I was warned about the Targaryen court from both my parents, so I knew that it would be different. But I had never imagined how my health would be affected as it did.”

No, the capital and Dragonstone had really not been good for her. If she could avoid having to return to those places so tightly connected with her first marriage, Elia was more than happy enough. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

After the breakfast meal next morning, when all the children had gone out in the palace garden to play, Oberyn even managed to keep Obara and Nymeria from trying to eavesdropping thanks to that they went to Ihsan's private office, the adults looked over all the maps and papers on the large table.

“There is some strange form of connection between the Sandship and the portals, I am sure of that, seeing that Elia saw Rhaenys enter the same trance as Sarella did and it must have happened at the same time.” 

“Are magic common there, in those lands?” Théodred asked, given that Sauron was known to have sorcerers in his service and as a Maia, the Dark Lord himself counted as a supernatural being. 

“Not exactly. It has been so long since magic was truly potent in this world that most understanding of it only lives on in superstition and rituals of questionable validity.” 

Although Théodred only knew the basis on very weak grounds, he still mentioned how the world of Arda was said to be created from the Music of the Ainur, under Eru the All-Father. 

“Music...the letters started to glow when Sarella sang in that old language!” Ihsan recalled, writing down the words he had heard her sing. Perhaps there was a clue somewhere that they could find out together. 

“I need to check on Obella in the nursery because it is almost time for her to eat, but I will be back quickly,” Ellaria promised as she rose from her seat, the others agreeing that she better not keeping her youngest waiting because otherwise the infant girl would only be even more upset over that her mother was late in giving her milk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who want to imagine what sort of hairstyle Théodred might have, check out Nils Kuiper on google and his awesome braids 
> 
> About Elia thinking that Théodred is more manly than what Jaime would ever be: She recalls Jaime as a child from her visit at Casterly and as a teenager during his time in the Kingsguard. The Lannister twins is ten years younger than her, so with the Prince of Rohan as her husband, I think that for Elia, Jaime would come off as more of that younger, pretty boy even in adulthood unless he grows a beard to not look so similar to Cersei
> 
> pinchitos is a Moorish-derived food in Spanish cuisine, similar to Kebab. The name pinchitos is used in the southern Spanish autonomous communities of Andalusia and Extremadura. They consist of small cubes of lamb, pork or chicken meat threaded onto a skewer which are traditionally cooked over charcoal braziers.
> 
> An empanada is a type of baked or fried turnover consisting of pastry and filling, common in Southern European, Latin American, Indonesian and Filipino cultures. The name comes from the Spanish verb empanar, and translates as "enbreaded", that is, wrapped or coated in bread. They are made by folding dough over a filling, which may consist of meat, cheese, corn, or other ingredients, and then cooking the resulting turnover, either by baking or frying.
> 
> Since Rohan have potatoes, I imagine that Rhaenys and Aegon loves a version of Spanish Omelette that is made in Rohan, which explain their confusion over that the potatoes were missing


	12. Returning to Rohan, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Martells finds a unexpected way back to Rohan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapters 11 and 12 were originally planned as one, but I chose to spit it up instead. // Rogercat

Meanwhile as the adults discussed how to possibly open a more controlled portal between Dorne and Rohan that would not show up and then close again randomly, the younger Martell generation had found a way to play together despite the language differences; a plain old game of hide and seek. As Obara and Nymeria were the oldest of them all, and therefore would have harder to hide somewhere they would not be found that quickly by the younger sisters or cousins, they ended up being the ones to search. 

“I found you, cousin.” 

Tyene knew that she stood out a bit thanks to her blond hair and pale skin, so she always tried to find a hiding place where she was better hidden. But she was not alone in hiding under the flower bushes, Arianne had somehow managed to hide one-year-old Trystane inside a large, empty flower pot near where Tyene was, and the youngest son of Doran had not found it funny to be unable to climb out, his crying revealing where he was. 

But Rhaenys, who was hiding herself in the further end of the garden, was once again in the trance. With her eyes blank, she whispered in the strange language from the day before: 

_ Break those blood ties _

_ Between me and the  _

_ treacherous one _

_ Curse those who seek _

_ to hurt our kin  _

_ Mark them with magic _

_ a brand to be tracked _

_ You who were my King _

_ This humble servant begs; _

_ Curse our enemies _

_ and end their lives  _

_ in despair and death!  _

She would not be aware later of the magic she just released, but it was a curse. A magical curse aimed on House Lannister for trying to murder Elia and her children, and others who had hoped gain power though the fall of the Targaryens. Created by a magic that House Martell had almost lost in the distant past, and only now was slowly becoming active again because something had awoken when Robert seemingly slayed Rhaegar in their duel, yet as Robert found himself forced to defend himself against a new attacker, no one saw how Rhaegar vanished into the water and the royalists never actually found his body.

“Found you, Rhaenys!”

The cheerful voice of Arianne brought her cousin back to the present, and under laughter Rhaenys ran off in an attempt to escape. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As the Martell children dashed out from the garden, Tirwald had sat down on a marble bench in the shade from an empty store building that belonged to the Old Palace, Resting his back against the stone wall, he was trying to see if he could save his saddle girth from being torn in two pieces next time he would try to use the saddle. He had fallen off his horse due to the saddle suddenly sliding to the side when an orc tried to cut the saddle girth with a dagger from the ground, and while being lucky to avoid injury, the same could not be said about his trusted gelding. 

“Damned orc, the saddle girth can be replaced since it is made of leather, but my poor gelding got a nasty cut near the stomach area and it is hard to say if he can be ridden again after that nasty injury…” 

He heard the children coming since they were not exactly quiet, and while the older girls was at the end of the group he saw Aegon and a black-haired boy, roughly the same age if Tirwald was not wrong, come running towards him as if being chased. 

“I will let you have a bath in the fountain too!” a less than pleased Eliana shouted towards her male cousins, her wet pants and tunic revealing why she was so cross, because Aegon and Quentyn had accidentally pushed her into the fountain by mistake when dashing past her and trying to avoid Obara getting hold of them since she was oldest of them all and showing all the signs of becoming a very tall woman as a adult, using her long legs to run after her younger boy cousins. Eliana might be the second youngest currently, but there was no doubt about her paternity now when she showed the same burning fury in her eyes as Oberyn. 

“Hey, Eliana! No strange singing now! Remember what your abuelo said about what happened in the Sandship yesterday midday!” Ellaria warned from a balcony near the nursery where she had just finished feeding Obella in the warm sunlight and heard her oldest daughter start singing. 

As the Rohirrim knew of the creation myth about Arda, Théodred was not the only one who had heard about so-called “songs of power” that Elves had. Some mortals could have it too, though it mostly was shown by having very impressive oratory skills since not everyone could be given a fine singing voice.

“Hammer of King Helm!” Tirwald exclaimed in surprise, as a more child-friendly manner instead of foul words given that he was the third oldest of eight siblings, as he suddenly felt the stone wall vanish behind his back as if it had never existed in the first place and he fell backwards over the bench due to the sudden change in balance. 

“Tirwald!” Rhaenys called out in alarm when she realized that it was a portal that had opened up behind the young Rider of Rohan from her younger cousin's singing, fearing that it could be closed with him stuck on the other side before they could do anything to keep it open. 

“Ow, ow...I guess that the mysterious magic that first gave the Prince the chance to save his future family is acting up…” 

But when Tirwald sat up and looked around, expecting to see inside the store building, he instead saw a half-cloudy sky, felt a strong wind against his back and the landscape on both sides… 

It was Harrowdale, just below Dunharrow to the left if he recalled the shape of the valley correctly. 

“Sit still, Tirwald, and do not move!” 

Running up to the portal, Rhaenys did what she seemed to think be the most logical thing; grabbing a large ceramic jar with both arms around it and almost dashed over to the side of the portal that was Rohan, before she managed to set it down in the middle where a faint golden line formed a gateway arch. Given that they could not know what would happen, Torwald dared not to disobey the order, she was an adopted member of his ruling family after all and set to become part of the nobility of Rohan together with her brother as adults due to being the stepchildren of the future king. 

“Who created that portal without telling?!” 

And of course, the adults had noticed it. 

“Rhaenys, what are you doing!?” Théodred was heard from the entrance to the Old Palace, Elia and her brothers not far behind. 

  
  


Once the younger generation had told of what had happened, and getting a scolding over it because who knew that could result if they opened the portal carelessly before they were sent back indoors to the family apartments with stern orders to do no more singing today, Oberyn tested to walk over to the side with Rohan and then back again to see what happened. 

“Doran, Théodred, help me pull over that marble bench so the portal is held open by having it acting as a stopping point. That way, the portal should not be able to close on its own.” 

Once the idea was proved true, they got a lot of things to do. 

  
  


As he was one of the riders not injured from the battle against the orcs and wargs, Tirwald was not surprised when his Prince ordered him to gather a small number of fellow riders and ride to Edoras to bring his father to Hallowdale. 

“Feder needs to know about the portal to Dorne. Also, be ready on that some form of guard duty might be formed around in order to prevent orcs and other foul things arriving into the capital here.” 

Doran was also giving similar orders to the palace guards, requesting that some form of shelter had to be built so the portal was hidden from outside attention. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

With the news that a portal had opened and that they would not have to worry about returning home, the Prince and Princess of Rohan shared the relief with his men. 

“A question, Princess. You said yesterday that your people have used the geography and climate of Dorne to prevent it from being conquered by outsiders, but is there any useful weapons that Rohan might benefit from?”

She did not mind the question, it was a very good one. 

“Yeah, like something to strengthen the defense of Helm's Deep or something such.”

Elia had to think, and when she looked up to see a small painting of when Queen Rhaenys and her dragon Meraxes was shot down from the shy, inspiration formed inside her mind. 

Scorpions, ballista and trebuchets. The catapults that could bring down the feared dragons if a lucky shot was aimed right. How strengthened would the strongholds of Rohan be, if they were given those?

“Besorg,” she said, gaining the attention of her husband, “I think...I have found the perfect choice for my family about the reward they planned to give you for saving me, Rhaenys and Aegon back then. And I am sure that they will agree when they hear what it is.” 

Elia felt her child kick faintly inside her stomach, as if agreeing. This was perfect, a way for Rohan and Dorne to be in contact, and she would once again prove that she had been a good choice as the future Queen consort of Rohan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, the curse Rhaenys sent off is not going to cause the Greyjoy Rebellion, it was going to happen anyway but some of the high Lord of Westeros are going to find themselves and their families facing a very different fate than canon 
> 
> Imagine the gardens of the Old Palace to look like the gardens of Alhambra palace in Spain
> 
> Harrowdale was the name given to the deep north-south valley cut out of the White Mountains by the Snowbourn River. At its southern end, beneath the mountain Starkhorn, stood Dunharrow, an ancient structure of the Men of the Mountains, later used as refuge of the Rohirrim. 
> 
> Besorg means “dear” in Anglo-Saxon, so this is a word that Elia sometimes call Théodred and him her in return
> 
> Bit of a question for you readers: I am thinking of pairing up Arianne with Daemon Sand as adults, because the Martells always try to add in new blood to remove the Targaryen inbreeding from princess Daenerys who married Maron. As part of the contract between Dorne and Rohan now when there is an open portal, would it be odd to see him adopted by one of Théodred's trusted men so as to remove his bastard status and thus make him more approved as a future Prince consort formally?


	13. Breaking apart expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysa makes a choice that changes her life in the long run

Year 288 A.C. Two hours travel by foot outside King's Landing, the manor house owned by Lady Arryn as a escape from the royal court and life in the capital:

Jon Arryn had come to the manor to spend time with his wife and their sole child so far, little Celia Arryn. Right now they were eating the evening meal together, and had not Lysa been in the first month of pregnancy, she would have been visited by him in her bed later. That was the ritual of their marriage, Jon spending most of his time as Hand to King Robert, and Lysa focusing on their daughter. 

“I hope that you will not lose the child early, and that it will be a boy this time,” Jon said after some long silence. 

“I can not predict what gender or the outcome of my pregnancy, my lord,” she responded, wishing that she could eat her meal with Ceila in the nursery instead. At least Rhoyne would be there and taking care of the toddler girl for now. 

To call their marriage successful, was a joke. The age difference between them was not the only thing that made Lysa hate her husband, outside the broken trust from her father and that she had been wed to Jon Arryn on the grounds of being fertile after that horrible abortion of her child with Petyr. He had been pleased over that Celia had survived the birth and the first year of life where so many babies could die, but at the same time, Lord Arryn showed disappointment that it was a daughter who would have to be married off in the future, unless she did choose a religious life in the Faith. 

“I have chosen Harrold Hardyng as husband for Ceila, to join the two branches of House Arryn together when she is sixteen.”

Lysa dropped her soup spoon in shock by what he said. 

“ **_WHAT?!_ ** She is the heiress of the Vale, how can you arrange a match for her already when she is only one year old?!”

For a moment, Lysa felt like she would faint, and not only from how her body reacted to the pregnancy or food. She was truly horrified by what her husband had just said. How could he do this to poor Ceila!? Was he that desperate to ruin his daughter's life before she even was old enough to understand what a marriage would mean?

“If I die before you give me a son, I want to at least know that House Arryn will not die out. Harrold is five years older than Ceila, they will be well-matched in age and lineage, for all of that House Hardyng is that of a landed knight. But my sister Alys had to make a match for her youngest daughter, for all of that my lastborn niece died of a winter cold not long after that Harrold was born.”

“Mama!”

Before an argument could break out at the dinner table, Ceila arrived with her nurse not far behind. Originally eager to run over and hug her mother, the Arryn heiress stopped at seeing the most unfamiliar man at the table too. For a outsider it would seem like she suddenly narrowed her eyes in displeasure, but Lysa knew the said truth: 

Her daughter was horribly near-sighted, already at this young age, and that she squinted like she did right now, hinted that Ceila tried to make out something in the distance because she honestly could not recognize people from a distance. 

“Better hope that the next one will be healthy. A son will be my heir with Harrold as the spare unless a second son is born. If it is another daughter, she will be a back-up to Ceila as Harrold's bride if something happens to Ceila before she is old enough to marry. Honestly, what use is Hoster's promise about your fertility if all the children you give me are  **_defective_ ** ?” 

The words broke Lysa, to hear Jon speak so indifferent about Ceila and her future. She felt her tears threatening to break out, so she quickly placed down her soup spoon on the table and rose from her seat. 

“The Seven bless your sleep,  **my Lord.** ”

She made no hiding of her anger and bitterness as she picked up Ceila in her arms to carry the child back to the nursery herself. 

Rhoyne had watched it all from the corridor, and it was only the need to not draw attention to herself that prevented her from doing anything right now. But the Hand of the King would still find himself with a mild “stomach ailment” tomorrow for being so coldhearted with his young wife. He had not eaten the intended dessert yet, after all, and the bread pudding was not yet being baked in the oven yet before it was served. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Rather than scaring Ceila by throwing things around, Lysa tried to keep herself calm by dancing around while still holding her daughter in the nursery as something new before she went to bed. 

“Flowers of Spring…” 

Soon Ceila began to be sleepy from the songs, and Lysa could place her in the small bed together with the rag doll she had gotten for her first name-day only five months earlier. 

  
  


Once returning to her own bedchamber, and learning that Jon Arryn had chosen to return to the capital despite that it was getting late in the evening, did, Lysa let out her feelings from before:

“Damn him! Damn my father to the seven hells for selling me as a bride to that  **_HEARTLESS, HORRIBLE_ ** old man!!  _ Family, Duty, Honor?! _ Trueborn, healthy children, he said as I bled out my firstborn thanks to the moon tea he gave me, all because he did not want poor Petyr to be the father to his grandchild!! Trueborn, yes, but  _ healthy _ ?! With a husband older than himself!? At this rate, I will be lucky if I will avoid another misscarriage!!” 

Throwing the pillows and other things around so she would not wake up Ceila by breaking something, Lysa ranted against her father Hoster as she cried. Complaining to Hoster by letter would not help, and he would only tell her to keep doing her duty to give Jon Arryn children. 

“Jon Arryn is not growing any younger with the years. If he wanted healthy children, he should have remarried to someone else a long time ago. At his age, he should be grateful for all the living children you can give him before he joins his previous wives in the grave.” 

Rhoyne had allowed Lysa to throw her temper tantrum before entering the chamber, because the young Lady Arryn needed it. Besides, Lysa was the same age as her own youngest, Morgan Sand, so the former paramour of the late Lewyn Martell had great sympathy for the young Lady. Over the years, they had formed a bond that could almost be called that of a mother and daughter, for Lysa was starved after a mother figure who was not her sister and female company that would not see her as the younger Tully daughter, always overshadowed by Catelyn. 

Sitting down on the messed up bed as she cried once more, Lysa whispered:

“I do not want Ceila to be used as a pawn for marriage alliances by her father, as I was with mine...yesterday night...I had a dream...I saw Ceila and a sandy-blonde sister helping her around in the Red Keep when they must have been closer to the age of ten…”

It had been impossible to miss that strawberry blonde hair that Ceila was already showing now as a one-year-old, and the sandy blonde hair that Lysa had seen in portraits of Jon Arryn's younger sister Alys and her eight daughters. She did not doubt what the dream likely meant; that the child in her womb right now was another daughter and not the male heir everyone awaited. 

Rhoyne sat down beside her younger employer, holding her hand as Lysa wept to let out all her grief and anger. 

“You know, Lysa...in your situation, with a much older husband that is rather unlikely to admit that his seed is old and weak so your children would be affected in either body and mind.... **_a little cuckoo in the nest_ ** might actually be the best choice if you hope for a healthy son. Sometimes that is among the finest gifts a wife can give her husband, for it would bring in new blood in old families that is sometimes already related to the spouses they marry in some form. Look at the Targaryens before Jaehaerys II and his sister Shaera married in secret, Shaera had three non-Targaryen female ancestors in her great-grandmother Myriah Martell, grandmother Dyanna Dayne and mother Betha Blackwood, and the royal family grew in numbers  **_precisely_ ** because they brought in new blood in the royal dynasty!”

The mere idea of cheating on her husband was something Lysa would have protested in the past before Hoster made her abort her first child, but nowadays she knew better. As the daughter of a midwife, and mother of four children herself, Rhoyne was much better at enlightening her about the reality of the marriage bed, pregnancy and motherhood than what Septa Mordane had ever been. 

“But...for the child to look passably like Lord Arryn with blue eyes and blonde hair...I can not take a lover from the Westerlands, the Queen comes from there and the Vale...no, they would tell my husband right away!” 

If she was found out cheating on Jo Arryn, Lysa would find herself openly shamed and sent to the Silent Sisters in disgrace. Her two daughters might have their own legitimacy questioned and the child from her love affair? Sent to the Faith, whatever it resulted in a third daughter or a son, so the child would never know its parents or origins. 

“Lysa. I got a very interesting letter from my younger boy some months ago. It is about a cousin of his, that is a part of a mystery since several years…” 

Rhoyne had a suggestion, after learning more in the letters from Morgan about the culture of Elia's second marriage, that she hoped Lysa would agree with. If she chose this path, House Martell would get a third secret spy in the royal court outside Rhoyne and Holly. And if they could get Lysa a lover from the Rohirrim in return, no one would know that her third child would have a father from a different world all together. 

“My first child would have been a Rivers if it had lived. I dreamed about it being a son, so what better revenge on my father for chaining me into this damn marriage...than Jon Arryn's precious, long-awaited male heir actually being a  _ Waters or Stone _ ?” 

The use of the surnames given by bastard children to highborn parents, and determined look in her eyes, told Rhoyne what path Lysa had chosen. 

“You have proved yourself able to keep a secret, as when you admitted that you heard Holly address me in a very familiar way around the royal children a few months ago. Then, let me tell you a new little secret;  _ I was the paramour of Lewyn Martell, and the mother of his four Sand offspring. _ ” 

That was the beginning of how Lysa Arryn got to know that not only had Elia Martell and her children survived by being spirited away to a different world, she had found love and a far better husband in her royal savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harrold Hardyng is the great-nephew to Jon Arryn though his sister Alys eighth and youngest daughter, and I made him born in 281 A.C in order to explain how he can have a 2-year-old bastard daughter and another bastard child on the way in 300 A.C. Not all young nobles are siring children already at the age of 15 years like Oberyn or Jason Lannister!
> 
> Bread pudding as a dessert served to nobles? Yes, think of how bread pudding uses spices to add flavor, and of how costly spices were in historical times because they often had to be imported from distant countries and thus only the upper classes would be able to afford them
> 
> Using modern months to explain easier: Ceila is meant to be born in what should be October aka tenth month of 286 A.C, and her unborn sibling will be born in March 289 A.C 
> 
> Septa Mordane as the governess to not only Sansa and Arya, but to Catelyn and Lysa too? Yes, I am borrowing this idea from the fanfic Lady of Rivers and Storms, because I think some of Lysa's insecurities comes from always being compared to Catelyn by people around the sisters from an early age and if Catelyn comes off as a model example on a highborn lady like Sansa in the school lessons, Lysa would likely be criticized for not living up to the same expectations
> 
> For those who want to see how Rhaegar is doing, we will get a glimpse of his life in Mordor soon! Plans it for the same time when Elia gives birth, as I might spread that important event out over two chapters


	14. Making plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now when they can travel to Rohan though the portal, Doran tells Arianne of the secret marriage pact and makes plan to deal with Jon Connington in the future

Middle of May year 3010 of the Third Age, Rohan's capital Edoras:

Once most of the Éored of Théodred had returned to the Golden Halls to tell the news, a few of them remaining at Harrowdale to keep guard over the portal to Dorne, King Théoden were very surprised to learn what had happened. That his son and the others had somehow entered the homeland of his daughter-in-law through a magical portal as they tried to escape from the orcs and wargs, but he was happy that they had found a way back home before being missing for too long. 

“Somehow I am not surprised by the portal showíng up and giving you a chance to get help as well having a long-awaited family reunion for Elia, but it would have been a disaster if my heir and his family were lost before an important event in the history of Rohan. People would have seen it as a bad omen of some kind,” 

Yet no one could doubt that Théodred and Elia felt some guilt over worrying the King so, for it was visible in their body language.” 

“Abuelo Ihsan has worked really hard with trying to find a way to connect Rohan and Dorne, so we could visit!” Rhaenys added in from where she showed up behind her parents, and was gently hushed by her mother with a hand over her mouth. 

“You can tell your ealdfæder about that detail when we have finished our talk between adults, dearie,” Elia promised and sent her children off to play or whatever they would do now. 

Still, she made sure to tell her father-in-law that Doran and his part of the family was planning to visit soon. Oberyn and Ellaria had promised to wait with their visit, so not the whole Martell clan showed up in Rohan without much warning. 

“Meeting your family...something we all have hoped for since it became clear that my son and you had feelings for each other, dohtor of my heart,” the King responded with a gentle hand on her shoulder, as well using a term that would make no one in Rohan doubt that he accepted Elia as a wife for his son. 

  
  


Still, Elia did not want the royal household to be caught unaware when her family arrived, even if she did not know when it would happen, and therefore took time to speak personally with the housekeeper and head cook about this. 

“When I travelled with my late mother to seek out possible husbands, we visited a lot of various noble families. Meduseld might not be like the glorious White City, but I know that my brother, my sister-in-law and their children will be happy to see that I am much happier in this royal family than with the last husband I married.”

The servants promised to do their best for a good first impression of the Golden Hall, when they would get the date of Doran arriving. Despite being a foreigner originally, Elia had proved herself several times before her marriage that she should be a good wife and queen consort when that time came, so with the news of her pregnancy being known in all of Rohan now, the meeting with her birth family would be viewed as important as well. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Back in the Old Palace, Arianne had just arrived at her father's solar due to being summoned there by him. But since she had not gotten herself in some form of trouble over the past few days, the heiress of Sunspear did not think that a scolding awaited her. 

“Arianne. Now when we finally have a way to be on contract with our missing family members and be able to meet them again, I thought it was high time to tell you something that I have been hesitant about.” 

Doran laid out several letters between them on the writing desk. 

“You are aware that you share the same year of birth as Viserys Targaryen, right? Well, his current guardian, Ser Willem Darry, has offered an alliance through marriage. In exchange for us, House Martell and Dorne, helping to restore House Targaryen as the royal dynasty of Westeros, you are to wed Viserys and become his queen.” 

Horror dawned in her heart when Arianne read through the letters. Saw how they stated that she, Arianne, would take the role of a new Myriah and Quentyn a new Maron, although there was no mention of princess Daenerys. 

“ **_But I am of a different character than Myriah, because I want to be as long-lived as Meria for a new era! Why should we, House Nymeros Martell of Dorne, keep giving up our daughters to the Targaryens when I am the heiress of this land?! And there is no mention of cousin Rhaenys and Aegon in those letters! Does Viserys truly believe that my aunt and cousins have died during those five years that they have been in Rohan, so he is the Targaryen King in exile?!_ **”

Realizing that she had been raising her voice to the point of almost shouting, Arianne felt her face turn all red and she knew that she must have messed up now, covering her mouth with both hands in an attempt to not make her father angry over the outburst. But to the surprise of his daughter, Doran actually laughed. 

“Father to a second coming of Meria? Oh yes, that is a posthumous honor I can accept in the history books about my reign as Prince of Dorne. And that part about Elia and your cousins is exactly why I have been trying to delay a proper response about this secret marriage pact, as well my fears that Viserys would think that the treatment Rhaella suffered from Aerys during the later part of their marriage is the right way to treat a wife. She tried to shelter her younger son as much as possible from the horrors she suffered, but he would still notice some of it despite her efforts. And with how Rhaegar treated Elia despite that she gave him Aegon...” 

Arianne shuddered in horror, recalling what she had read about Duskendale and how it had changed Aerys II. Such a marriage would be a living nightmare, a hell for any woman unless she was strong enough to fight back in some manner. And Viserys' guardian honestly thought that she would gladly give up a role as the ruling Princess of Dorne to become a queen of the Seven Kingdoms?

“ **No,** **_papa,_ ** ” Arianne said, using a word she rarely spoke since her toddlerhood ten years ago, ” _I am not marrying Viserys_. House Targaryen is a fallen House, removed from power by the Rebellion. Until that I am wed and have my own first child, Quentyn is my heir. The only Targaryen King I am willing to support, should it come to such a scenario, is cousin Aegon and Rhaenys as his heiress.” 

Doran knew that Elia refused every idea about her children sitting on the Iron Throne because she knew that it could mean their deaths thanks to who their father was, and thus it gladded him to hear his daughter say those words as well. It showed that Arianne was aware of what she really wanted to do with her life, and that the role of being a queen was honestly not the dream of every noble daughter in Westeros. Rather than a King offering her a crown or being saved by a knight in shining armour, Arianne was far more likely to follow in the footsteps of her late grandmother Aria and choose a Prince Consort from somewhere in Dorne. 

“Well spoken, Arianne. It is regrettable that we must disappoint poor Rhaella in the afterlife by not choosing to help her last two children, but given the history of House Targaryen in the last two generations, I fear that Viserys and his sister Daenerys are the ones drawing the short straw in this matter. They are the result of two generations of brothers marrying their own sisters, and without any royal titles or dragons, they are nothing else than another set of orphaned siblings with the blood of Old Valyria somewhere in Essos.”

With her response as thus, Doran knew how he would write in the next letter to Willem Darry. That Dorne would offer no support to Viserys becoming the King in a Targaryen restoration, based on how his father and brother had failed to live up to the expectations that people had of them. And that Aegon, as the son of the last Prince of Dragonstone, actually would have a claim on the crown before his uncle anyway. Since Doran had no intention to reveal that his sister, niece and nephew actually were safe, he wrote the letter as if their mysterious disappearance from the Red Keep's godswood five years earlier was the main reason he did not want to stand behind Viserys.

_Until we have a true confirmation that my sister and her children did indeed pass away during the Sack of King's Landing or shortly after, I will not hand over Aegon VI's crown and title as King to his paternal uncle._

Looking over the letter as her father wrote, Arianne did not doubt that Willem Darry would take offense at that Doran named Aegon as the sixth King of that name. If Viserys was thought of as the last male Targaryen alive, any hint of Aegon possibly being alive and thus being able to claim the Iron Throne before him, would perhaps split his possible supporters apart. If that could weaken anyone attempting to use a false Aegon for a Targaryen restoration, it would help to keep her cousins and aunt safe. 

  
  


Once Arianne had left the solar, Doran pulled out another clean parchment to write on. 

“Right, I should write to Arash and Lemore that we have found a way to travel between Rohan and Dorne, so I am going to send a group of trained people with Oberyn over to Essos so they can have some help in bringing young Griff back to us before he is sent to the Golden Company.”

If his two cousins and Griff could return home to Dorne so Griff could unlearn the nonsense about being the son of Rhaegar, then the whole Martell clan would be united together again. Besides, if they could somehow kill Jon Connington and let him learn in his last moments that he had been trying to raise a false Aegon that was not related to his beloved silver prince at all, then it would be an even sweeter victory. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not sure if I could find a word for grandparents in Anglo-Saxon which Rohirric is based on, so I looked around online and found ealdfæder that is meaning a grandfather on either side. 
> 
> Doran is NOT enjoying leaving Viserys and Danerys to an unknown fate, but the actions of Aerys and Rhaegar both before and during the Rebellion makes him doubt about whatever it would be a good idea in the long run with a Targaryen restoration. Besides, Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon are alive and since House Martell is a close-knitted family, it is more natural for Doran to choose his own blood relatives over some fallen royals that are very distantly related to them. Given how Daeron II and Myriah Martell had to deal with Daemon Blackfyre openly making a claim to the crown in the First Blackfyre Rebellion, and Elia not having a good marriage to Rhaegar despite giving him two healthy heirs, Doran would rather not give Arianne as a third Martell princess to a Targaryen prince if there is no guarantee that she will be treated well and respected by Viserys
> 
> Remembering my idea about Lemore being Lewyn's oldest daughter and the biological mother of Young Griff from Foreign Lands? That is what Doran have in mind with not supporting Viserys, if his cousin can steal back her son from Jon Connington before Griff grows too used to the idea of that he is the real Aegon, then the Golden Company have no “Targaryen boy king-in-exile” to put on the Iron Throne because the real Aegon and Griff both have some traits from House Martell in their otherwise very Targaryen appearance and while a boy of the right age and look could be found in Lys, for example, I believe that Connington would not be fooled that easy by the swift since it is one thing to recall Aegon as a baby, and seeing Griff at times over the past five years


	15. 500 year Jubilee of Rohan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The building up for the jubilee

It took maybe two more weeks of planning the visit and some messenger riders between the two courts, before Doran and Mellario arrived at Edoras with their three children alongside Ihsan and an escort of their personal guards together with some of the stable grooms from Sunspear driving a smaller herd of free-running sand steeds between them. 

“I made sure to request that there were no black horses among the sand steeds in my dowry because they would be targets for the Orcish raids of black horses and imagine the horror of seeing the sand steeds being ridden in the army of Mordor!” Elia whispered to Théodred, as the royal family watched the arrival from the front steps of Meduseld since it was a warm and sunny day, who nodded in agreement over that logic. It was already bad enough that the famed horses of Rohan risked such a horrible fate. 

The meeting between her family-in-law, her father and oldest brother went very well, Elia could see that. Doran was not a stranger for being a guest at foreign courts from his time as the heir to their mother, since that was how he first had met Mellario in Norvos after all nearly one and a half decade ago, and her letters with information about the very different culture of Rohan surely helped him now when the ruling Prince of Dorne greeted the King of Rohan. 

  
  


For their part as they enjoyed the welcome banquet, Doran and Mellario agreed on that while Rohan might seem like a poor country by the standards of Westeros, this other world had a secret wealth that would make many of the Westerosi nobles green with envy; 

Namely regular seasons, not ones that would last for several years and then the people facing maybe a almost a decade of poorer harvests and risk of starvation due to a long winter. As they ate the welcome meal, the Prince and Princess of Rohan told the King of what Elia had requested of her brothers as a reward for her husband saving her little family five years ago. 

“The catapults will be a welcomed defense to Helm's Deep, and I can see what you hope by using it.”

They also ended up talking about the possibility of various Sand bastards from the noble Houses maybe coming to Rohan for fostering, or perhaps even adopting. Théoden nodded in understanding when Elia explained how the Martells tried to clean out the inbreeding from Daenerys Targaryen, but that while a Sand bastard with a commoner parent would be a ideal spouse for Arianne in terms of fresh blood, being born on the wrong side of the blankets made it impossible to become a Prince or Princess consort unless being made legitimate. 

“The northerners would grow suspicious if Doran suddenly legitimized many of the children from the other side of the bed sheets with a noble parent, so if some of them were adopted into families here in Rohan, they can claim being from Essos instead.” 

Doran even had a list made ready of some of those children that could be fostered out in Rohan and perhaps even be adopted. The Sand Snakes would remain with Oberyn and Ellaria, since all of them were girls so far, but Daemon Sand and a few other boys with a noble parent would be able to court Arianne in adulthood if this worked. 

Neither the current Prince of Dorne and his sister found it alarming that they needed to keep an eye on Ihsan, especially whatever there was storytelling and him trying to learn as much as possible about this world's various cultures. 

“Dad, you need to sleep in a proper bed at least!” Doran found himself scolding his father mildly more than once, again finding Ihsan falling asleep at a table with half-finished notes around him. The servants of Meduseld were kind enough to not laugh when noting the ink marks on Ihsan's face from using his parchments as a pillow. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

For most of the early summer, no one in Rohan could avoid all the preparations for the jubilee later in August. Everything promised to be a good harvest so far when the royal family travelled across the kingdom to see how things were for the common people. It had delighted Elia to see that Oberyn, Ellaria and the Sand Snakes had arrived just in time to join the royal travel group, so they could get a tour around Rohan.

“Fields of gold, a wealth that is necessary for survival,” Elia smiled as Obara challenged Éomer to a race along the wheat fields, and Oberyn showed how some of his more odd ideas could be useful when he suggested that whenever it rained in Rohan, the people in Sunspear would enter through the portal to collect the rainwater in large jars to carry back to the Old Palace. That way, they could converse the amount of freshwater that was available in Dorne and yet not worry about using too much. Even if the jars did not end up fully filled every time, it was still water that could be used.

“Cheater!” someone of the younger sisters called after the two young adults when it looked like Éomer won over Obara because he was familiar with the landscape of Rohan and Elia giggled as her brother had to prevent her nieces from teaming up against the royal sister-son.Sadly Oberyn could not stay for long since he needed to fix something back home in Dorne, but he promised Elia that they could come back in time for the jubilee. 

  
  


From Gondor, Boromir showed up with a surprise gift, pulled by many oxens on a sleigh that was moved along several huge timber logs on the Great Road, that actually had been started by his grandfather Ecthelion II during his reign as the Steward of Gondor;

A granite statue of Eorl the Young as he rode on Felaróf. 

“There seems to have been some disagreement about using granite or marble for the statue, so it was not finished before,” Boromir explained to the best of his knowledge about why it had not arrived years earlier. 

“Where is your brother? I thought he would have liked to come along,” Laywyn asked with some obvious disappointment in her voice that actually surprised Théoden a little. The King knew that his sister was fond of the younger son of the Steward, in a somewhat motherly manner outside being her eventual successor as Captain for the Rangers of Ithilen, so perhaps she had wanted to see him?

“Faramir broke his wrist when we had a friendly duel with our men a month ago, that sort of accident that happens without warning!” Boromir hurried to say when he felt the cold glare at him, and understood that she might think he was the reason behind the injury. He was not exactly scared of Laywyn, but he had seen her in battle and knew that the royal sister could be frightening for those who displeased her. 

Still, the statue was raised in Aldburg, since it had been the first capital of Rohan and where Eorl had ruled. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

On the first day of August, Elia woke up early. Given how huge she was now with her pregnant belly, Théodred had begun to sleep on a palliasse down on the floor so she had all the space in bed she needed. 

“It better not be a false labour pain again that I just felt…” 

The past days had not been that great for Elia, because false labour pains had been a growing problem and she really wanted to not miss the jubilee because of that. 

“Need any help, Elia?” 

Of course her groan must have awoken him. 

“Just to get up and visit the outhouse unless that chamber pot is still empty somewhere in here…” 

Personal hygiene was taken seriously here at Meduseld, and the chamber pot of porcelain had been a nice gift from Mellario and Ellaria who both knew how troublesome pregnancy could be in the last months. 

Once that more pressing need had been dealt with, Théodred washed his wife with a soft rag all over her body so she did not need to tire out herself so much, a maid servant having left a bowl with heated-up water from the kitchen just before they awoke. 

“Are you **_really_ ** sure that you have still about a month left, in terms of size?”

Well, Elia did not fault him for that doubt about whatever she really was in the eighth month instead of almost finishing at nine months. She was big, but since she had only felt two tiny feet kicking at times, Mereliss had suggested that maybe it simply was a lot of foster water that added in size. And with the horse breeding that was such a deep part of culture, Théodred had witnessed a lot of mares looking like they somehow had swallowed a whole barrel before birth.

“I am hungry, can we dress and then eat?” Elia asked, already reaching out for the green caftan dress she would wear today because it was so loose and comfortable for her current state. 

  
  


Given that Elia was so heavily pregnant, extra attention would be paid to her by almost everyone. She did not mind, knowing that it was a good reason for it and she was happy to have nearly her full family there as guests. 

“Jon Connington is finally removed from the living world?” she asked Oberyn during the breakfast, as an express rider had arrived from Sunspear during the night with a very big letter from Manfrey, who was ruling Dorne for his cousins while they were in Rohan. 

“Yes. As they were sailing on a smaller ship to bring Griff to the Golden Company, Arash added some sleeping drug in the wine everyone would drink in the evening before going to bed, and then they threw Connington aboard to meet a watery grave while taking Griff from his bed and escaped with the pole boats that our men awaited with.” 

How sweet the breakfast suddenly tasted, with Elia now knowing that Connington was dead by drowning in the very river that once had been the home of Nymeria of Ny Sar and her cousins being on the way home to Dorne so Griff would no longer be tricked into believing that he was the missing son of Rhaegar. 

“The day has started well with those news. Let us enjoy this jubilee for Eorl the Young and all the previous members of his House!” 

As she smiled, Elia did so partly to ignore the pain in her lower back again and made a mental note to ask someone to give her a light back massage later during the first horse race held outside Edoras, with riders in the same ages as Rhaenys and Aegon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that Doran is nine years older than Elia and Arianne is born in 276 A.C when Doran was 29 years old, he and Mellario must have married in 275 at the latest to have their first child nine months later. So I imagine that they have been married for at least 13 years currently in-story 
> 
> Yes, all three Martell siblings sometimes call Ihsan dad as a reaction on something they do not expect from him, because it is a habit from early childhood XD 
> 
> About Ryon Allyrion simply not letting his wife Ynys Yronwood adopting his bastard son Daemon, I think they were married a few years after Daemon was born and with at least two legal sons in that marriage along with Ynys being the legal wife, Daemon would still be rather low in the succession order to Godsgrace after all his younger half-siblings since even if he is the oldest child of Ryon. Someone who is fifth or sixth in line to inherit a seat or keep is not going to offer much wealth in a marriage, especially not for a bride or bridegroom who is of higher social status than themselves. 
> 
> Sorry for those who wanted to see Faramir as well during the Jubilee, I am trying to keep him and Éowyn meeting as in canon, in the Houses of Healing, or as close to their canon first meeting as possible since they may meet during the wedding of Éomer and Lothíriel, there is no way I can imagine Faramir missing his younger cousin getting married!
> 
> Palliasse is a straw mattress


	16. Named after a legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the jubilee ends in a very unexpected way for the House of Eorl

It was if the Valar themselves wanted the 500 year jubilee of Rohan to be a memorable day for a long time to come, because it was beautiful weather and not too hot temperature. This promised not only a good mood for the people of Edoras, it also helped the guards who had who was instructed to check for possible quarrels due to too much wine or anything else that could ruin the important day, by not having to worry about heat stroke in their full guard armour or not being able to see on a distance because of bad weather. 

The jubilee started with an impressive parade of the Muster of Edoras, Rohirrim that could be mustered to war from Edoras and the King's Lands, including those from Harrowdale in the White Mountains, with the members of the royal family in the front as a sign of their lineage from Eorl the Young. As he had done in his youth, Théoden led the Riders not only as King, but also as the First Marshal of the Riddermark since Théodred still was the Second Marshal with his command based at Helm's Deep and while Éomer had came of age one year ago, he was not yet having enough experience to take up the mantle after his late father as Third Marshal that held command from Aldburg.

  
  


Soon after that the parade was finished, horse-riding and other forms of competitions for all ages began.

“Well done, Aegon!” Théodred smiled as his stepson managed to finish third past the line. The races for children in the same age as him and Rhaenys had only a few riders, as peasant families generally owned draft horses to use in the farming and ponies would not be useful for riding anymore once all the children entered adolescence. Even Rhaenys had managed to get among the five best among her age group, much to the shared pride of her many family members.

“Pretty!” Rhaenys said at finding that her prize for ending up in second place was a lovely wool shawl, its yarn coloured a bright yellow with chamomile flowers and knitted by Théoden's own hands. The shawl would be useful for winter in a few months, when it was cold outside and everyone would need to dress in more layers of clothing for warmth. 

Since her pregnancy gave her a legal excuse to remain seated on her blanket, Elia used the opportunity to, with the help of Morwen, tell Ihsan about some ancient legends from the First Age so he could write those down and add to his research about Middle-earth. Again, the former Prince Consort revealed that it was from both him and Aria that their daughter had gotten her more practical view on so called “forbidden love” when he now compared the three famous romances between Elves and mortals: 

“I have to agree with you, Queen Mother, that the tale of Luthien and Beren may be a _nice love story_ _but a long-term political disaster_ when their supposedly heroic deed did nothing to help weakening the Dark Lord. Also, their only child and two of their grandchildren were murdered because she rejected a suitor that was most likely done in a manner that only highlighted the princess as being sheltered and not familiar with cultures and customs outside her own, which sort of ruins the whole “romantic love wins over all”-theme. And the Princess Idril of the Hidden City, with her mortal husband and her son that you said is the one who guides the morning star nowadays? One would think that her Kingly father would realize that if there is a warning from one of the Gods, he should obey and actually leave the city behind instead of letting it become a deadly trap when it did end up attacked. Also, what did Tuor bring to prove himself a worthy husband? He had no lands, no social status, nothing that could bring an alliance.” 

Instead, Ihsan agreed with Elia that the Elven prince Aegnor and his mortal lover Andreth was a much better tale. Tragic because they had never married and ended up in different afterlives, yes, but also inspiring in how they had remained loyal to each other despite that they could have moved on from this impossible love and possibly marrying spouses of their own race. 

“That is why I have found myself so fond of this story, Padre. It is bittersweet, but it is also hopeful in a manner I can't really explain…” 

“I believe that you mean that it highlights that sometimes, loyalty and a quiet life is better than causing unnecessary drama that ends up dragging a lot of other people into the mess. It is one thing to like drama that is being told in stories, but it is really exhausting and draining in both body and mind to actually live such a life,” Morwen commented from her place beside the father-daughter pair on the blanket, without even looking up from her embroidery that she always carried along in a pouch at her belt. Elia smiled at her grandmother-in-law before feeling a new pain in her lower back and managed to mask it by drinking some lemon-water from her goblet, then blaming her grimace on that she had gotten a little too much lemon juice in the water. 

  
  


Doran and Oberyn won respect from the Rohirrim when they showed off their respective fighting skills in friendly duels against their brother-in-law and some of his men, no one doubted that Oberyn would be more likely to fight in open battle because of his personality but the ruling Prince of Dorne showed that even if he was more of a politician, he had not allowed his own skills go rosty yet. The younger Martell generation and the Sand Snakes, sans Eliana, Trystane and Obella due to their young age, was also showing that House Martell and Dorne was not going to let their women be passive damsels in distress without knowing a way to defend themselves. 

“I think Aldor and I made a good choice with young Daemon as our foster son. And fostering is a great way to spread information about our cultures,” Elia's lady-in-waiting Dewfled commented at seeing her husband being helped by the Dornish boy they had taken in as a foster son when some of the male Sand bastards from Dorne had arrived to Edoras earlier this summer. That Daemon was already 12 years old, meant that he was old enough to be trained in warfare from the beginning and helping Aldor in various outdoor tasks that his two foster siblings were still too young for, because his foster parents had married only five years earlier.

“The more fresh blood we can give House Martell, the better. It would raise a lot of questions if Doran suddenly allowed someone like Daemon to be a suitor to Arianne, especially as he is born on the wrong side of the blankets.”

It was not impossible for children born out of wedlock here in Rohan to get a respectable work in sociality, but those born to underage parents who had not yet turned 18 at the birth tended to be viewed with some form of unease because not all such young mothers were ready for the reality of having a baby, both physically and mentally, and the risks of possibly ending up neglecting the baby as a result. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As it turned into early afternoon after a light meal that she found herself unable to eat more than a few pieces to taste, Elia realized that she could not ignore the pains in her back and abdomen anymore. They were getting stronger, in an alarming way.

“Laywyn...help me get back to Meduseld, I need to rest for a bit,” she managed to request, and the older woman was not blind to what this could possibly mean. After all, even if Elia was not sure exactly if she was in the eighth or ninth month because of the size of her belly, it was not impossible that premature children could survive against all odds. 

“Get Mereliss and her assistants to the Golden Hall. Say that Elia needs a tea on some **_relaxing herbs_ ** because of cramps and she needs a pro to ensure that the dose is right for a lady in her state,” the royal sister whispered to her niece, who had been enlightened about such herbal teas for her own monthly visitor and therefore would not be alarmed yet as she went to find the midwives. 

Elia was not surprised at all that Ihsan came along, since he might have suspected that something was not right based on his experiences of his own wife's pregnancies, especially since there were nine years between her and Doran, an age gap that could have had five siblings if they had not died in infancy or been lost in three miscarriages. 

  
  


Once arriving with all the stuff she used to have as help at childbirths, Mereliss confirmed that Elia indeed had entered labour. 

“Yes, it seems like you were indeed blessed by the Earth Mother at the beginning of November after all, princess. And it is nothing strange with some women entering labour earlier than a full nine months later.”

“And I who wanted to enjoy the jubilee today without having to worry about entering the birthbed yet!” Elia muttered, groaning as a new labour pain shot through her back. As it was her third childbirth, it would most likely happen that Rohan had a new royal member before midnight. 

“That reminds me,” Ihsan held up a carefully sealed jar that was pretty big and seemed a little heavy from the weight, ”Lemore and Arash sent this by ship to Dorne as soon as they got the news of the portal. It is water from the river Rhoyne, which they thought would be nice for you. If we mix it with the jar of water from the Greenblood and water from Snowbourn, it can be a symbolic mixing of water for all three cultures that your child originates from.” 

Since Elia knew that she was going to be very sweaty from the labour, she agreed on the symbolism. Besides, she somehow felt comfortable at the thought of her child with Théodred would be given its first bath in the waters of her various homelands. 

“Open the window more so I can at least try listening to the music outside as an attempt of distraction from the labour pains!” Elia requested, which Mellario did as Ellaria returned a newly-fed Obella to Oberyn before almost literally kicking him out on the grounds that there was a difference between witnessing a lover and a sister giving birth. Since Éowyn, Obara, Nymeria, Tyene and Arianne was at a age where they had entered womanhood or would soon do it, they had no choice but to remain in the bedchamber for helping out and getting a “real impression” of childbirth as Morwen did not think it a good idea to shelter them from the reality that they perhaps would undergo themselves in a decade or so. 

  
  


Of course, that Elia did not return was soon noticed and naturally her husband and his father as well came to check on her. Morwen had to push both of them out of the bedchamber, when she noticed that her son tensed up.

“Do not start fearing that we will lose her like Elfhild yet, Théoden! Keep Rhaenys and Aegon busy with something outside instead, they are a few years too young to witness what happens at childbirth!” 

Well, given the trauma of losing his wife in childbirth, Elia did not blame her father-in-law for fearing that she would end up with the same fate. She knew that was a risk shared by every woman who ended up pregnant, and given how close she had come to dying when giving birth to Aegon, she was scared as well. However, she felt comfort in that she was surrounded by friends and family, and that the child was sired by a husband she actually loved, and knew that even a daughter would be welcomed if she would not have any more children after this birth because it would be too dangerous for her health. 

  
  


Leaving his father to try calming himself down with some knitting while Oberyn had to try comforting a rather upset Sarella over that she was not allowed inside the chamber as her big sisters, and Ihsan helping Doran to try finding the rest of the younger generation from wherever they had run off to, Théodred took Rhaenys and Aegon outside Meduseld to try explaining what happened inside the bedchamber. 

“Are Madre going to be alright, feder?” Rhaenys asked with some understandable worry over that her mother seemed to be in pain when she had managed to get a glimpse of Elia in the bed before Laywyn had closed the door. 

“I can't promise that, Rhae, but she is in good hands. Mereliss is the best midwife in Edoras and she will do her best to ensure that everything does well.”

In truth, the Prince of Rohan was more scared than what he wanted to show his stepchildren. Never before had he realized the horror of possibly losing a beloved wife to death by childbirth, for all of that he knew it to have happened to his own mother and it not being unheard of for all women no matter which social status.

“ _They will be fine,_ ” Aegon suddenly spoke up with a surprising strength in his words, “they are not of Targaryen blood, and **_he_** will not take them.” 

Somehow, Aegon did not sound really like himself. His voice sounded more adult, almost, and his blue eyes seemed to be in a trance like how Rhaenys had been when and Sarella had helped to open the portal during the orc attack a few months ago. 

“What….?” 

In that same moment, Morwen proved herself where Laywyn had gotten her manner of loudly commanding things to people: 

“ ** _Théodred!! Get yourself and the children to your wife NOW!!_ **”

Realizing that it was better to hurry, he took Rhaenys and Aegon in each hand to bring them along. 

  
  


Not long after, a bell near a watch tower was sounded to catch the attention of the people of Edoras as a summoning to the courtyard before the stone stair to Meduseld. By now, it had been noticed that Elia had not been seen for a few hours, and that nearly the whole royal family seemed to have been gathered around the Golden Hall. The King took a deep breath to not have his voice tremble too much from the inner joy he felt, and thus spoke in a clear, strong voice that could be heard: 

“Eorl the Young has two new descendants as from today! Let it become known in all of Rohan that Princess Elia has safely been delivered of a healthy Prince and Princess! The Prince of Rohan has become a father today!” 

The cheer from the gathered people and Riders of Rohan over those happy news was deafening. And surely it must be a good omen that the royal twins had been born in the very same year and start of the month that marked five hundred years since Rohan was formed. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Inside the bedchamber, Elia was excused from the birth, but happy. Both her son and daughter were alive, showing all signs of health despite that they were a little small in size as twins tended to be since they often had to enter the world before the womb got too cramped for them both. 

“ ** _Aégnor_ ** ,” she said at seeing her younger son mostly take after his Martell side just like Rhaenys while his sister took after her sire in the colour of hair and eyes, “ ** _Andréth_ **.” 

“Good names. We all know how much you love that tale,” Théodred spoke in a voice thick with emotions, holding each swapped baby carefully on one arm so Elia could see her children and husband together with her father and brothers watching from the door since it would be too crowded otherwise. The new children of the royal family had been born in the opposite birth order of Aegon and Rhaenys, somehow fitting if this was indeed going to be her final children. 

“Théoden, _what_ is this new creation supposed to be? I know that you were scared during the birth of your grandchildren and could not really focus on what you were knitting because of the memories when you became a father yourself, but this looks like an honest mess like those that you did when you first started to learn knitting from Amil!” they heard Laywyn comment loudly outside the chamber, using the Sindarin word for mother, and Elia had to laugh. It felt nice to hear her father-in-law soundly more like his usual self when he responded to his sister about whatever she had found. 

“Aria would have been proud, Elia. Two new grandchildren in the same birth! We have not had twins in House Martell since her maternal aunt Maya, the mother of Manfrey, and her twin sister Elena,” Ihsan smiled, not doubting for a moment that Aria would have danced with joy over seeing her four grandchildren from Elia together. All in all, it had been an eventful day for both sides of the family and everyone was longing for bed now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ihsan dismissing Luthien and Beren as a classical pair of selfish lovers who did not realize the long-term consequences of the Quest for the Silmaril is meant to show how similar their story sounds to Rhaegar and Lyanna, coming off as star-crossed lovers in a romantic view but there also being people who views them as selfish for not realizing just how big of a social scandal their relationship would be. I also think that Ihsan, who lived though the whole drama of how Duncan Targaryen chose Jenny of Oldstone over his Baratheon betrothed and Jaehaerys II marrying Shaera as a new Targaryen brother-sister incest marriage, would be a big critical of Idril marrying Tuor because while a skilled warrior and shown great favors by his eventual father-in-law Turgon, the father of Eärendil was basically a commoner at coming to Gondolin since he had none of the wealth or lands his family once had owned
> 
> Dawfled means “dew beauty” in Anglo-Saxon
> 
> About my headcanon for Rohan dealing with teenage parents below the age of 18; think of how difficult it is to be a teenage parent even in modern times and how it would be even harder in a place like Middle-earth where you might belong to a farmer family who is already working hard everyday to get enough food on the table and the baby adds a possibly unwanted extra mouth to feed. Even if movies and fiction claims that people married already in their teenage years, it was more common among the nobility and upper classes while those who were commoners and close to that social status often had to spend years working to gather together a dowry or something else needed to start a household when entering marriage, more often marrying in their 20s. In Rohan, where they have 18 as coming of age, teenage parents below that age would likely be seen as “rushing into adulthood” without thinking of what that could actually mean for them in the long-term. Also, worldwide in RL, complications related to pregnancy ARE the most common cause of death among females 15 to 19 year old. Add in high child mortality where not every child born may live to adulthood, and I can really see Rohan viewing teenage pregnancy below the age of 18 as “Do you honestly have a death wish/do you want her to die?!” 
> 
> Of course Lemore and Arash would send some water from the river Rhoyne for Elia! It was where Nymeria came from, and since they were in the area while waiting for any signs that Griff would be sent to the Golden Company, why not give their pregnant cousin a surprise gift?
> 
> I chose to make Manfrey Martell a first-cousin to Aria, on the idea of their mothers being sisters, but Amirah was the future ruling Princess by being the firstborn of that generation while Maya and Elena was born much later due to the Targaryen inbreeding from Daenerys resulting in a few siblings between the sisters was sadly lost in the cradle or stillborn, making Manfrey closer in age to Doran as a result


	17. From bad to worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar did not have the same luck as his wife and children in where he ended up in Middle-earth

For most people in Middle-earth, Mordor held an image of a barren wasteland of ash and fire from Mount Doom where nothing could grow. 

But that image, which matched the Plateau of Gorgoroth, a high desolate plain in north-western Mordor, was not all true. The southern regions of Mordor, called Nurn, were more fertile than Gorgoroth in the north, in which the great inland Sea of Núrnen laid. The people who inhabited Nurn were not all orcs but mostly Men, some of them followers of Sauron since many generations back, others sentenced to lifelong hard labor without the chance of regaining freedom or slaves sent all the way from the kingdoms and empires of the East as a tribute to Sauron. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Among those slaves were those who worked only at night. In so-called “houses of pleasure”, they would offer their bodies for the pleasure of their customers. Even there, among that world that was most visible when others were asleep, there was a hierarchy, where common slave women would be available for human soldiers and low ranking officers, and then higher up, more well-trained in refined arts such as dance and music for senior officers. The very best and most expensive pleasure slaves were kept separate for those who had the favor of Sauron or the Nazgûl. 

  
  


Tonight, several of the courtesans in one of the brothels for high ranking officers had been sent for, to serve as entertainment at a banquet. The manager of that house had even been sent a big chest of gold coins as payment ahead in the hope that they would be coming, so they could not exactly protest.

“Do your best tonight to get an even better reputation than you already have! If any of the guests want to bed you during the banquet in a private room, make sure that they pay extra! Remember, every extra coin is a coin closer to either finding a respectable life in the East for later in life and buying yourself free from the debt you own this house for housing, food, clothing and training to become the elegance you are in this very moment!” the manager said as he slammed the door to the carriage shut and the oxen driver began to drive away towards the house where the banquet would be held.

“I see that Amethyst is not coming along tonight. Well, after what he caused last time we were outside the brothel, I am not surprised that the manager is not letting him leave.”

The big difference from the other high class brothels, however, was that all the courtesans here were male. All they had in common, despite coming from different places, was that they had been brought especially for becoming male sex workers that did not offer just their bodies but arts. 

“Well, what did he expect when he tried to escape from the mansion while we others performed in a song with fitting dance movements for the guests and he ran straight into a garrison of soldiers who were not having enough money for pleasure outside cheap streetwalkers? A male slave running around, dressed in a see-through purple silk dress with only a loincloth underneath, makeup and fine jewelry in his long hair while also looking like he is well-cared for with next to no whip marks or anything else that hints to him being a common working slave? Of course that would mark him as a high-class pleasure slave on the run!” 

As cruel as they sounded by talking like this, the male courtesans were in agreement that Amethyst deserved to be found half-dead from the gangrape and breatings he had suffered from the garrison. He was not exactly popular among them for various reasons like his antisocial personality, and still had the nerve of acting like an arrogant noble after those five years as he had been in the brothel. At the beginning, he acted as if they were but simple-minded servants, only to be struck by the reality of their work when the manager had ordered him drugged so they could dress him up and his debut as a pleasure slave went as planned since he was still pretty enough for that sort of work despite already being in his twenties. 

  
  
  


Back at the brothel, where only the courtesans-in-training was remaining so they could train to refine their future skills in song and dance to become even better than before, the manager tore open the curtain that separated one of the rooms where his adult courtesans would serve a customer in bed if they did not leave for a summoning like this. On the bed, a white-haired male with his face and hands covered in bandages was laying, pretending to be asleep so he would be left alone. 

“Get up on your feet, you lazy slacker!”

At being pulled so harshly in one arm, Rhaegar gasped in pain. But while he could have made resistance towards the manager, who was a small old man, the same could not be done against the two muscular bodyguards who pulled him out of the bed and out in a smaller room where medicinal examination would be done. The manager had summoned a local healer to see if Rhaegar were still worth selling as a courtesan, now when he had spent a whole month recovering from the injuries. 

“Ah, too bad. His fingers have healed well so far from getting stepped on by the soldiers when he tried to resist them, but they are damaged in a way that will not make his harp-playing good anymore. And the clawing marks on his face...well, he would not be called a pretty boy anymore if he was ten years younger, and the makeup would not be able to cover them fully, I am afraid.”

The manager swore loudly when he realized that no, the ruined hands, the clawing marks and the massive scar on his chest left from Robert Baratheon's warhammer meant Rhaegar would only be worth selling if he was sent over to one of the lesser brothels now, muttering something about wasted money and how one of the adolescent boys training to become courtesans would have to make his debut as Rhaegar's replacement sooner than planned because of this. 

Despite spending five years in the brothel, Rhaegar still had a limited understanding of the language spoken here, mainly because it was a mix of the various languages spoken by the people in Mordor, but he could tell that it was not good news for him right now.

“Not...serving! I am a prince of royal blood! Not some common whore…!”

That earned him a hard slap in the face from the manager. 

“Quit that nonsense, I have told you over and over again! You are a slave like everyone else here, and you have just proved yourself more useless than before when you were never able to grow popular past your debut for being a newcomer!” 

Since he was making a scene as so many times before, Rhaegar found himself not taken back to his room, but rather tossed into an empty storeroom that served as an improvised prison cell for the courtesans if they behaved badly against their co-workers or customers. This was not the first time the Targaryen prince had been tossed in here for several days so to break their spirit, when he first had realized what sort of place he had woken up in. 

“Be quiet unless you want to be drugged out of your senses again, bastard,” one of the bodyguards warned as the door was locked. 

  
  


Once the healer had left with some coins as payment for his work, the manager looked over the total cost for Rhaegar in his accounts, one for each courtesan who lived at the brothel. It was not good, he had never managed to act submissive to customers in the past if he would serve them in bed and mostly served as a harp player in the background when there was a performance for high-ranking guests. 

“Mostly complaints that he is not well trained in bed despite my efforts to teach him, and he would not have served for many years either…” 

None of the male courtesans here were past the age of 30, since they tended to not be as popular as their younger co-workers despite having more years of skills and also had a limited time to how long they could serve before leaving the brothel in one way or another. According to what Rhaegar had managed to tell by using his fingers as a sign language in the beginner, he was 29 years old now, one year left before he would be viewed as not attractive anymore. 

“I am not risking my other boys' good reputation by selling someone who may have gotten a venereal disease.” 

That was the other reason why Rhaegar was going to vanish from the brothel, outside not longer being good enough for selling with his looks ruined. The manager had no way of knowing if one or more of the soldiers in that garrison had already been infected with a venereal disease from some other whore without knowing about it and transmitted said disease to Rhaegar that night. Those kinds of diseases were associated with cheap streetwalkers and people who were so poor that they sold their body out of desperation so they could buy food to eat.

  
  


Rhaegar was again showing some of his normal behavior, being broody as he mostly would be in his life, when the door was opened to reveal the manager, who looked very displeased. 

“Five years since I found you unconscious, half-dead at the entrance to the brothel. That black armour of yours was sold for a good sum that covered most of your medicinal cost back then. But a good courtesan? No, you may be moderately good at singing and playing the harp from whatever upbringing you had in the past, yet you were never as good as the others in my care. A pretty face and looking exotic with that silver-blonde hair and those purple eyes of yours, yes, that was your only good selling point. Since you have always viewed yourself as better than the rest of my hard-working boys, spending the rest of your life as a farming slave should finally break that arrogance of yours!” 

A small bowl with dry bread and a pint of water was placed on the floor before the door was shut and locked from the outside, serving as his insignificant final dinner at the brothel before he would leave before dawn next morning. A faint light from an lantern outside came from a small crack in the wall, falling on a small bronze mirror in a corner. When Rhaegar looked at himself just to see what all the earlier fuss had been about, as he had not been allowed to see himself in a mirror for so long, he gasped in horror: 

For a moment, it was not his own face looking back at him, it was his mother Rhaella as he last had seen her before she was sent to Dragonstone with Viserys. A face with claw marks on the cheeks and looking older than her actual age.

“Mother...mother…!” 

The similarity between his final memory of Rhaella and his current state, seemed to be what broke him. Not for the first time in the five years since he had ended up in this hell, Rhaegar wept after his mother, cursing Robert Baratheon for winning their duel and fearing what that victory would mean for the Targaryen dynasty. 

“I must find a way home...I must defeat the rebels! Visenya...Lyanna must give birth to her...the three heads of the dragon...Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters reborn...the prince that was promised…!” 

But if there was anyone who listened to his irregular babbling that night, they would not understand the High Valyrian language that Rhaegar spoke. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next morning, Rhaegar was chained to a long line of slaves that would be taken to the large farms that grew food for the armies of Mordor and spent the rest of their lives working on the fields until death. What little he had owned during his five years as a courtesan, was actually belonging to the brothel and thus his jewelry and other stuff was distributed among the other inhabitants of the pleasure house. 

“What is this? Some freak animal?” one of the young boys asked as he went through the drawings Rhaegar had done in his free time and found a drawing of the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. 

“Use those drawings as ignition for the fires and lamps. They are not good so they can be sold,” the manager responded with a dismissing hand wave, as the other courtesans were already enjoying that Rhaegar was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In ancient Rome male prostitutes wore long dresses instead of the male toga or tunic, having long hair instead of cutting it short like other men. They also shaved their faces and removed all body hair so they looked more young past the teenage years 
> 
> Of course Rhaegar would likely not be a good courtesan, he may have the upbringing that would make him seem like a perfect prince, but he is very similar to canon Viserys in the GOT book, entitled due to his royal status in Westeros, spoiled because he was the only surviving son of Aerys and Rhaella for 17 years with no siblings to share the attention with and takes it for granted that having the blood of Valyria means that he is above others. Waking up in an unknown world where he can not understand the language, is treated as a slave to sell so others can use his body for their own pleasure and forced to do as others order him to with the threat of punishment, is a far cry from what Rhaegar is used to.


	18. Cursed be those who seeks harm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The GreyJoy Rebellion changes the political map of Westeros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hint to all Elia fans: She will have her own theme week between 1th and 7th October. The theme for each day follows
> 
> Day one: Family  
> Day two: Love Interests  
> Day three: Traits  
> Day four: Friends  
> Day five: Elia Lives  
> Day six: Queen Elia  
> Day seven: Free Choice
> 
> If you post something on AO3, it is encouraged to use the tag ‘Elia Fests.’

The year 289 A.C, the sixth year of the reign of Robert I Baratheon, would begin and end in blood. 

It all started when Varys, the Master of Whispers, were found dead at the end of a staircase, his neck and both legs broken from the fall. As he had died during the night, it was very difficult to find a suspect and a motive. While it seemed to be an accident, rumors soon spoke of that Varys had planned treason in some form, and that the Seven had punished him by death. No one ever noticed that septa Holly, the governess to the royal twins, and septa Rhoyne, who was serving lady Lysa Arryn, shared a glare of triumph during the burial of Varys.

“With that eunuch gone, it will be easier for you to take a secret lover when Lord Arryn is at court as Hand.” 

“I hope that we can find a man that can be trusted to keep quiet about all of this.” 

In the third month, Lysa had given birth to a second daughter, Amanda Arryn, just like in the dream she recalled. That she had been right, only proved why she could not trust Jon Arryn to be able to give her the son she needed to give him. If Amanda were also affected by the age difference between her parents, and the fact that Lord Jon was already old by Westerosi standards at the wedding, well, surely that meant any son of his from Lysa would be feeble and perhaps not very likely to survive to adulthood. And that meant Celia would be Lady of the Vale only by marriage, for all of that she was the heiress currently. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Then the Greyjoy Rebellion broke out, starting with the burning of the Lannister fleet, since Balon Greyjoy crowned himself as King of the Iron Islands and believed that King Robert's rule was still insecure despite marrying the daughter of Tywin Lannister and having legal children in that marriage, that he lacked support amongst the nobility and would not be able to muster a host against him. 

  
  
  


But as it soon turned out, Balon Greyjoy had greatly underestimated the “greenlanders” as the people on the mainland were called by the Ironborn. Robert  _ did  _ have superior numbers and resources to crush the rebellion, in the form of his brother Stannis, Eddard Stark and Tywin Lannister. 

“Let him have a taste of why I won over the Dragons!” Robert ordered Stannis as the middle Baratheon brother sailed away to join the royal fleet with the Redwyne fleet from the Arbor and ships from Oldtown. 

  
  


As three members of the Greyjoy family were present in the sea battle where Stannis defeated the Iron fleet led by Victorion Greyjoy, the plan was to take all three of them prisoners to use as hostages against Balon. But 12-year old Renly, who had sneaked along on the ship where Stannis was in a foolish hope of proving himself a man despite still being a boy, turned out to be a massive obstacle. 

“Renly, no!” Stannis screamed in horror when he realized that it was indeed his younger brother who was there, running against Euron Greyjoy with no other protection than a chainmail and a sword in child size. And unfortunately, Renly got a fatal lesson in reality when Victorion used his massive axe to almost behead the youngest Baratheon brother in front of Stannis. 

“No...no...Renly! Renly!”

At the sight of Renly laying there in a growing puddle of his own blood, something echoed in the memory of Stannis: 

_ Please keep Renly alive, Stannis. I want you both to live through this. I refuse to become a burden for you, and I will not let the Tyrells enjoy a victory where I have to kneel for them in surrounder.  _

For a moment, he was back in Storm's End during the siege, during that stormy night as his grandmother Rhaelle, already thin from the food rations, had chosen to kill herself by throwing herself out from a tower window so she would not become a burden. The memory of her black and yellow dress in the colours of House Baratheon, her free-hanging Targaryen silver-blonde hair turned white with age, how the violent storm almost made her seem like a living ghost and how he had reached out for her in drawing horror of what she intended to do, just as she let herself fall out though the window into the sea so far below....

“ **_CURSE YOU ALL TO THE ENDS OF THE WORLD!!!_ ** ” 

His fury mixed with the memory of his grandmother ending her own life and the loss of his brother seemed to awaken the Baratheon blood in Stannis, and Victorion found out that even if Stannis were built differently than Robert, he was still very strong, a man in his prime. 

At the end of the day when it ended in defeat for the Ironborn, the captured Victorion and Aeron Greyjoy was beheaded personally by Stannis, while Euron narrowly managed to escape in a smaller ship with only a few men. 

“Lord Stannis, we have lost Jorah Mormont and several other Northern warriors in the battle as well,” Davos Seaworth reported to his lord as they sailed back to let Robert know that his youngest brother no longer was alive. 

“Let the North grieve their loss, as I do mine. Let me be alone for now”

Looking up towards the starry sky, towards the direction where the Stormlands would be, Stannis felt like he had failed Rhaelle by Renly dying today, since she had given up her life to ensure that they would remain alive. Would his grandmother ever forgive him for that failure in the afterlife?

  
  
  


Robert was heartbroken by the news that Renly had gotten himself killed, and swore that House Greyjoy would pay the price. Rorick and Maron Greyjoy had always been killed during the rebellion, but the rest of the Greyjoys would still not be spared. This was proved true in the siege of Pyke, when Alannys Harlaw chose to kill her youngest son Theon and only daughter Asha out of fear of losing those last remaining children as well, then killing herself in the same manner by poison. 

With his whole family dead, and no one knowing where Euron was, Balon had no choice but to surrender to Robert. Brought to the Baratheon King in chains, he found himself stripped of his titles and beheaded like a criminal just like his brothers. 

And that price was also paid by the Iron Islands too, with all adult Ironborn men killed and their rock wives taken as prisoners. All male children past the age of ten were ordered to be sent to the Wall, boys below the age of ten and girls of all ages taken to Westeros and spread out across the realm to become serfs to the various Lords. Basically, the Ironborn was wiped out as a culture and the Iron Islands abandoned. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Yet there were losses among the Lords of Westeros as well. Hoster Tully had died in battle, as had Mace Tyrell. This left their sons to become the new Lord of Riverrun and Highgarden at a young age, with Brynden Tully as the regent for Edmure and Olenna sharing the position of regent for Willas with her daughter-in-law Alerie Hightower. 

While Cateryn Stark mourned the loss of their father, who had died just before the birth of her second daughter Arya Stark, Lysa Arryn was overwhelmed with joy over the news that Edmure was the new Lord Tully. The death of Hoster meant that she was free from his ghost, and could secretly enjoy that she would still get revenge for her aborted child by the late Petyr by having a false son to Jon Arryn soon. 

  
  


As they sailed back to Lannisport to celebrate the victory there with Tywin Lannister as the host of the victory feast, Robert came up to Ned for a talk. 

“Ned, I might as well tell you this now. I want a marriage between Robb and Argella, to tie our Houses together by blood ties.”

The current Lord of Winterfell had not expected to talk about marriage of all things. 

“What?! But...they are only six and five years old!” 

“In ten years, they are old enough for marriage. I have already promised House Tyrell that little Margaery Tyrell will wed Lyonel to become his queen when he is King after me, as a reward of Mace blocking that battle from hitting me. Besides, there are not many other maids of noble blood that are close enough in age to my boy and I do not want him to marry a Lannister relative. And Celia Arryn is already promised to Harold, Jon's great-nephew, to become the new House Arryn if Lysa can not have a son.” 

Having a princess marrying into House Stark...well, Ned was not sure if the North would accept a second southern-born Lady Stark after Catelyn, but refusing a royal princess was a bad idea. Besides, Argella was the daughter of his good friend, who would have been his goodbrother if Lyanna had not run away with Rhaegar. Perhaps this younger generation would manage it better. 

“I accept, but on a compromise: Argella **_must_ ** convert to the faith of the Old Gods and become a Northern Lady in all manners, for Catelyn is still not trusted because she follows the Seven and has her old septa become Sansa's tutor in how to be a southern lady. I want Argella to be fostered by House Manderly in White Harbour once she is twelve, so she can spend her last years as a Baratheon princess to adjust to the North and her future role as Lady Stark.” 

Robert agreed, promising to ensure that his oldest legitimate daughter would be a good wife to Robb. 

  
  


Of course, Stannis was not happy with the news that a daughter of House Tyrell would wed his nephew. For him, it felt like Robert was mocking their grandmother Rhaelle by that betrothal, since it had been Mace Tyrell who led the siege and indirectly caused her death. 

“Damn you, Robert! You never think about things and how they might turn out in the long turn!” 

It was very little comfort in that he and Selyse at least could move to Storm's End as the new Lord and Lady Baratheon since Renly had not even been old enough for marriage, leaving the dreadful Dragonstone to become a ghost castle as prince Lyonel was being raised in the royal court. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

In Casterly Rock, life had been mostly normal while Tywin was away in the Greyjoy Rebellion. During those months, Tyrion had came of age and wed Tysha Clegane in a very simple wedding ceremony with few guests outside their close relatives, mainly because while Jaime wanted his brother to have a grand wedding as the second son of the current Lord Lannister, not all the nobility of the Westerlands was there to witness. 

But little Leia Lannister, the second daughter of Jaime and Rayelle who had been born half a year before Amanda Arryn, seemed very determined to try to talk to her uncle today. 

“Luke! Luke!” she insisted on saying to Tyrion and his bride, though everyone of the adults thought that she tried to actually say “luck” to the newly married couple. 

“Ah, are you saying that you would like a boy cousin to be called Luke Lannister, young lady? I agree, it is a fine name,” Tyrion asked gently, as the nursemaid took care of little Joanna and Leia so they could eat their share of the wedding dinner in the nursery. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhoyne and Holly teamed up to kill Varys by gravity in the form of pushing him down a very long staircase. Since they pretend to be septas of the Faith, no one imagines that they might actually be spies for House Martell and since Varys was one of the persons who planned to use Griff as a false Aegon, he needed to be removed before learning that his plan had failed. 
> 
> Yes, I headcanon that Rhaelle, the daughter of Aegon V and wife to Ormund Baratheon, was still alive during the Rebellion named after her oldest grandson. She was one of the victims of the siege of Storm's End, choosing to kill herself so Stannis and Renly would have her share of the rationed food. As Stannis was very close to her thanks to Robert being fostered in the Vale and Renly being so much younger, her suicide is one of the traumas he have from the siege 
> 
> As for why I had Renly killed here in the Greyjoy Rebellion, well I will be blunt; Can anyone honestly see canon Renly accept that the Iron Throne will be inherited by a legal son of Robert, in this case Lyonel, and Stannis before him? Prideful Renly, who is attention-seeking by always desiring to be in the spotlight, willing to go against all succession laws by stealing the crown from Stannis and possibly even become a kinslayer if that means he can have the glory and power of Kingship and very much ungrateful against Stannis despite that his middle brother tried to keep him alive in the siege of Storm's End where both risked to starve to death with their men, had not Davos Seaworth managed to smuggle in food for them? Nope, I chose to kill him here because he fancied himself to become a young hero and found out too late that reality is very different from songs 
> 
> Yup, indirect Star Wars hint here, basically Leia Lanniser planned to be a blonde version of Leia Organa while Luke Lannister is going to inherit the dark brown hair of Tysha


	19. Distant, mysterious songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doran and Mellario are blessed with a fourth child

Edoras, the capital of Rohan, early summer of year 3011 of the Third Age, same year as the Greyjoy Rebellion was happening in Westeros: 

As Mereliss had guessed several years earlier when Elia had wanted to know if she was still able to bear children, the birth of Aégnor and Andréth would indeed prove to be the last pregnancy for Elia. She had survived the birth, but to the price of that trying to give the twins a younger sibling would never happen. 

“Sometimes I really wish that I had more advanced medical instruments to provide a more in-depth answer, but alas, my experience after more than thirty-five years in this profession tells me that there will be no more children, no matter how hard you try in the future.” 

Well, Elia had given the royal family both a son and daughter last August, so she did not have to feel any guilt about that she would not be able to give Théodred more children. Besides, Éomer was twenty years old and Éowyn sixteen this year, so it was not like Rohan was truly desperate for the royal family to grow in number yet. 

  
  


Instead, she left the twins in the care of the nursemaids because she had another errand to fix. One that she had talked about with the whole family on both sides to ensure that there was no confusion later. 

“My Princess, my Prince, you said that there was a special mission that you thought I could do?” Tirwald asked when they arrived where he had gathered his own family for the requested meeting. 

“Yes. It is a little hard to explain, but we will try our best.” 

Together, Elia and Théodred told of how Lysa Arryn had agreed to become a spy in King Landing for House Martell, in exchange for a help that could not be directly revealed: to have a healthy son that could be passed off as the heir of old Jon Arryn. 

“That man was already in his  **_sixties_ ** when he wed her?! And everyone expects this young lady to give him a healthy heir despite that both her daughters with him have shown signs of being affected either physically or mentally by the age difference between their parents!? That would be like the King suddenly remarrying to a girl the same age as his niece!” Tirwald's father exclaimed in open disgust, and his stepmother looked like she could not hold back her own distaste of such a marriage. Their children also looked unhappy with this information, given that marriage past the age of 50 was nearly unheard off in Rohan. 

“Are you choosing Brothor for this mission on the ground of that we are eight siblings, of which four are sons?” one of the two oldest sisters asked, the offspring of their mother's first short-lived marriage before her husband had died in a orc raid and Tirwald's father had remarried his second wife after losing his own first wife, Tirwald's birth mother, in a lung disease that took her life before her son was even a year old. Their marriage was yet another of those families across all of Rohan where not all children shared the same parents for some reason.

“Not merely that. Lady Lysa is a victim of unfortunate circumstances, in a different way than I was. Besides, my aunt tells me in letters that she is a stronger soul than she seems, but sadly tends to end up in the shadow of others and needs the warmth that is a stable relationship with someone in her own age. I feel that if she can find a way to happiness, and possibly get a chance to save her own daughters from a similar fate, she could play an important role.”

Elia held up a small miniature of Lysa, which Tirwald could take a look on. She also had a drawing of Celia and Amanda Arryn to show. Thanks to Jon Arryn having sandy-blonde hair in his youth, the young girls could have been mistaken as coming from Rohan, with a rare red-haired mother. 

“Pretty lady. I see why you want her lover to be from Rohan, Princess. A child with a sire from Dorne would be revealed as the result of a love affair right away.” 

Even if they could not promise that the meeting between Lysa and Tirwald would result in a possible love affair, it was a silent agreement that trying would not hurt at least. And while infidelity was not seen with kind eyes in either Rohan, Dorne or Westeros, this was under very unusual circumstances. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Not many days after that meeting about what they had been intending for Lysa Arryn, Elia visited Sunspear with her children, while her husband was away at Helm's Deep, so she could finally meet the little surprise that had taken everyone in House Martell by storm: 

That Mellario had fallen pregnant for the fourth time not many months after that the twins arrived into the living world, and had given Doran a third son. 

“So this is little Mahaad. He seems to take after you the most,” she said at seeing her newest nephew, named after the oldest son and heir that Danerys had given Maron Martell, in the cradle near the bed where her sister-in-law was resting. 

“Yes. We felt that it was a good name, seeing that it can be found both in House Martell and in Essos.”

Given that Mellario was five years younger than Doran, her being able to have a pregnancy at the age of 38 was not impossible. But since they had agreed on Trystane being their final child, the birth of Mahaad seemed to be a bit ironic given that there were not so many Great Houses in Westeros that had gotten male heirs since the Rebellion that placed Robert Baratheon on the Iron Throne. 

“Do you think that Mother Rhoyne blessed you with Mahaad to balance out the number of boys among our children? I mean, we have two each, so maybe if Oberyn keeps giving Ellaria daughters…”

Mellario waved weakly with a hand.

“In Norvos it is said that an even number of children is a good sign, no matter if it is more of one gender than the other one. Something about hopefully getting more grandchildren later. And leave the larger brood-making to Oberyn, the oldest Sand Snakes are from four different mothers so Ellaria should be able to have two more if they are in the right mood. If Oberyn gets two more little Sands, that will make the next generation sixteen members total. House Martell deserves that growth and becomes one of the biggest families here in Westeros.”

Elia had to laugh, knowing how true that was. She would stay overnight, so Aégnor and Andréth could meet their maternal family outside Edoras. 

  
  


Yet that night, Arianne suddenly woke up after a very vague dream. Had she heard some faint music from somewhere? No, it was a whisper of a song, in a language she did not know. 

“Is it one of the court musicians still up at this time?” 

No, it had to be past midnight and no one outside the night guards would be awake at this point. But she still could not really resist the song, it felt like some form of prayer....

“Sis? Arianne, where are you going?” 

Quentyn had also heard the faint song and followed it to one of the larger chambers in the Old Palace, but his sister reacted far strongly to it. Then Arianne's eyes became blank as in a trance. 

_ Though the sands of time  _

_ and by a blood line unbroken _

_ I call upon you, my Ruler  _

_ Blood of the Traitor _

_ doom those still alive  _

_ Ruin their lives, their hopes _

_ let despair become their end _

Around her feet, strange symbols began to glow on the floor. The same ones that had reacted when the first portal had opened between Dorne and Rohan. 

“Ari…” Quentyn said in growing fear, “I do not think you should continue with that song…” 

But the heiress of Sunspear did not seem to hear her brother. Instead, she spoke in a stronger voice: 

_ Mighty Ruler of Kemet  _

_ hear this pleading _

_ to who you once were!  _

_ Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken _

_ This line has proved strong _

_ as once promised by _

_ those long gone _

As she spoke, several spears rose in the air, as if held by invisible hands ready to throw them at an enemy. Then something was shaped by swirls of sand from the nearest window. Shaped like humans, but like they were trying to defend themselves against attackers… 

“ **Arianne Nymeros Martell, STOP RIGHT NOW!!** ” 

Raising his voice to try sounding as close to their father as he could despite still being a boy, Quentyn threw himself against his sister, breaking the trance as he did so. But when Arianne became aware of where she was, she could not explain why there was sand on the floor or the spears not on their normal places. And Quentyn was not sure if she would believe him if he tried to explain. 

  
  


But one effect was noticeable. In Rohan, Théodred suddenly jolted awake by a most unwelcome sound from outside Helm's Deep. 

“Nazgûl!” 

The feared Ringwraiths of Sauron. Their presence was not a good sign, he had grown up with tales of how they could spread terror and there was no telling of how Oberyn and the other Dornishmen would react. 

“Oberyn, stay inside the keep! That scream is made by something that is in the service of Sauron!” 

While the younger brother of Elia and Doran would have wanted to explore, even in the middle of night, something about that scream made him freeze. Not out of terror because the Black Rider was already vanishing in a different direction somewhere in the night darkness, but because his very instincts told him to stay away for now.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Next morning, in the port city of Manisa, Sultanate of Rûm: 

Because of the vast distance, twenty-year-old Suleiman was unaware of what happened in the, for him, distant northern kingdom of Rohan. But something also kept him awake this night, so he was not in the most cheerful moods now during breakfast. 

“That pirate captain we sent to the silver mines with his crew as punishment for piracy has died in a cave-in?” 

“Yes, Şehzade Suleiman.” 

It was Euron Greyjoy and his few remaining ironborn warriors who had tried to attack the small ship that Suleiman sailed on a few months ago, but quickly finding themselves captured by the very magic that Suleiman had inherited from his distant ancestor Khamûl and who the young man tried so hard to hide so no one would know that there was a Şehzade hidden outside the imperial palace where his father, the current Sultan, and the rest of his expanded family was held as prisoners in their own home because that imprisonment was how Khamûl kept control over Rûm for Sauron. 

Because Euron and his crew had been spotted as they attacked fishing boats before arriving close to his ship, Suleiman chose to immediately sentence them to life's work as slaves in the silver mines, as pirates were hated here along the coast cities since they disrupted trade by sea and also could take high-born prisoners for ransom. Now, a few months later, it seemed like all of that small crew had died without ever seeing the daylight again for the rest of their short lives. 

“Summon Hürrem at once after breakfast. I want to spend the full day and night with her, her cheerful nature always brings joy after a night with dreams like the ones I had this past night.” 

Hürrem was his favorite concubine since two years ago who had caught Suleiman's attention thanks to a shared love of poetry between them alongside her distinctive red hair, the mother of his firstborn son Mehmed and now expecting a new child in her womb. 

“It is good that I can sire children to have as my own heirs, if I manage to take the title of sultan after father when that day comes…” 

Suleiman was already making moves towards such a change in power, because few doubted that Sauron would soon make a war towards Gondor. It was only a question of then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mahaad being Mellario's fourth sucessful pregnancy is based on a idea that she had a late miscarriage with a second daughter between Arianne and Quentyn, which was rather traumatic for both herself and Doran, given that Aria had lost three children in miscarriages as well
> 
> As Martin have not given any names to the offspring of Daenerys and Maron Martell, and I intend for Aria to have been their great-great-granddaughter, this would have made Mahaad Martell the grandfather of Aria's own mother Aminah since I headcanon the Martells to start having children around their early 20s and not all generations might have succeeded each other, like that Aminah could have been Mahaad's heiress due to her own Martell parent dying before Mahaad himself. 
> 
> Şehzade is the Turkish form of the Persian title Shahzade, and refers to the male descendants of an Ottoman sovereign in the male line. This title is equivalent to "prince of the blood imperial" in English.
> 
> This version of Suleiman and Hürrem are the same age, so they have met earlier than their RL counterparts and thus do not have that age difference of 8-10 years between them as in RL history based on what is known about their years of birth
> 
> Since the crossover focus mostly on Elia, the Martells and Rohan, I am going to make a side-story that focus on the OC Westerosi children and what happens in Westeros, as well my headcanons to how different they would be from their parents when it comes to relationships


	20. Dreams and sights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mysteries can be found everywhere

Late summer of year 3011, Meduseld: 

By now, Aegon was used to that sometimes, he saw his surroundings swift for a moment for a more dream-like scene. Abuelo Ihsan had explained what he knew of dragon dreams for the Targaryens, and given what Aegon would hear about stories where a character had second sight, this had helped him to not feel so scared when it happened. So now when it happened, in the middle stage of sleep and waking up in the morning, he was not so alarmed: 

_A young girl, who looked rather like the miniature drawing of lady Lysa Arryn he had seen. She was dressed in the ragged clothes of a young maid servant, and fanatically trying to prevent a stern-looking woman from beating a slightly younger girl, who had dark brown hair and a longer face yet the same nose on them both told that they had to be sisters._

_“Please, Arya did not mean to do that! We are new to this sort of work, we do not know how to do the duties of house maids! If you just ask around for Lord Stark of Winterfell…”_

_Judging from the woman's expression, she had no idea what sort of language the older girl spoke but was still able to guess what she must have tried to say. That only earned the red haired sister a slap in the face as well, hard enough to knock her to the floor. Undoubtedly, she was being punished for trying to interrupt the intended punishment of her sister for something the woman had not appreciated._

_“As long as you are a part of this orphanage, and there are no parents, older siblings or relatives to take you in, you will work alongside the other children to help Minas Tirith recover from the attack from Mordor. Everyone here in the city has to do their part of the hard work, no matter their age, so do not think that you will get any special treatment just because you wore those fancy clothes when you arrived! Your sister needs to learn that she can not keep saying the first thing that comes to her mind and disobeying rules, and you need to stop acting like you are one of those spoiled highborn brats who are above others!”_

When Aegon woke up properly, he recalled enough of the vision to leave his bed and walk over to the parchments where his uncles had left some newly updated family trees of the noble families in Westeros north of the Red Mountains.

“House Stark...yes! It was them!” 

Sansa and Arya Stark. Why had he dreamed about them being in Minas Tirith of all places? Was it a forewarning that they would need to open a new portal, to give Gondor help in war and the daughters of Lord Eddard Stark somehow ended up there by mistake? 

“I can not forget this, it feels important….”

With all the determination that a seven-year-old could have alongside the growing need to not ignore whatever warning it could be in his dream, Aegon grabbed a quill, the sealed inkpot and a somewhat clean parchment so he could write it all down. Then he proved himself to be Ihsan's grandson by falling asleep, and another parchment as pillow to sleep on until proper morning. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same, in Westeros: 

Given that Robert had brought most of the warriors at court with him, Cersei had her hands full with her various duties as queen even in the absence of her husband, Jon Arryn was the one who did most of the daily work for his former foster son. As such, he could be called more or less stuck in the Red Keep now, unable to find time to visit his family in the manor house, so this meant a ideal time for Lysa and Tirwald to have their first meeting without having to worry that someone could be spying on the lady Arryn. 

  
  


It was Arash who acted as a guide to Tirwald once the Martells had managed to set up a meeting place for him and Lysa to have their first meeting. The quickest way to King's Landing was by ship, and even if the Rohirrim warrior was not accustomed to sailing, he managed to avoid getting seasick. 

And naturally, with how Edoras and Minas Tirith had strict rules about keeping clean both on the streets and inside the houses so the population did not get sick unnecessarily, he was **_not_ ** impressed with the city founded by the Targaryen Kings. 

“Do they not have a proper sewer or something such to get rid of waste?! That city is a health hazard in terms of all the illnesses that can be spread! My youngest brother would never be able to live there, he is not of robust health and would fall sick constantly if he ever comes here!” Tirwald commented in disgust at feeling the stench of the capital even as the ship was a good distance away, covering his nose with a handkerchief in an attempt to escape the smell. Even in the clothes of a sailor as a disguise, it was still impossible to hide his muscular arms as he crossed them in showing what he thought about the capital of Westeros. 

“Cousin Elia and tío Ihsan have also complained about the smell when they had to stay here in the past, so you are not alone.” 

  
  


Meanwhile, Lysa was nervous as she tried to make herself look nice for the meeting, again checking over her simple cotton dress and her hair in a braid over one shoulder. Despite that she had not met the Martells directly, Rhoyne had promised that Elia would try finding a decent man for her as a lover that would be so unlike Jon Arryn that she would be proud of her choice to place a cuckoo in the nest as the desired male Arryn heir. 

“It was a big surprise to get a letter from princess Elia, of all people!”

In the rather long letter, Elia had explained basic points about the Rohirrim culture, so Lysa could make the best first impression of herself. This had helped a lot, and she hoped that it would go well. 

“Mama!” 

Celia was very happy over getting to be outside in the large garden to enjoy some time outdoors in the niece weather, especially as Amanda was brought along in her baby basket and seemed to share her sister's eagerness to be outside today. 

Given that Rhoyne had not seen her oldest child for six years, Arash found himself caught in a nearly crushing hug as well endless questions about Lemore and little Griff. Like how had he adjusted to Dorne since his arrival? Had Jon Connington expected stuff of her grandson that he was too young to actually understand and do?

Tirwald had changed from the borrowed sailor outfit into the traditional Rohirrim leather armour not long before their small group of riders had arrived at the manor house, and Lysa blushed deeply when she realized that he must be the man Elia had chosen to be her lover. 

“ _So handsome and vigorous....!!_ ” 

Lysa was old enough now to know that a handsome man could hold a less than pleasant personality, yet Tirwald showed why Elia had chosen him when Celia, curious about the guests, nearly tripped in the grass because her nearsightedness did blurry out uneven parts of the ground and he gently caught the two-year-old girl with all the experience he gained thanks to his younger siblings. 

“Careful, little one.” 

His gentle words to her daughter sealed the deal for Lysa, as she had been bold enough to request a lover that would be good with children as a contrast to her old, unwanted husband. 

“Pardon me for not introducing myself at once, lady Lysa. My name is Tirwald.” 

Something about the way he spoke her name despite the heavy accent, made Lysa feel like a true adult woman with a possible romance. Petyr would hold a place in her life as the father of her first child, but as those six years had passed, she had managed to actually visit the Fingers while she was in the Vale and found herself realizing that no matter how deeply her younger self had loved Petyr, she would never be happy there. 

“I wanted to give both yourself and the girls something.”

Opening one of his saddle bags, Tirwald held up a lovely leather belt that had gotten flowers carved into it, as a practical gift for Lysa and two small crochet horses made of yarn for her daughters. 

“Give me! Give me, pleeeeease!” Celia pleaded with big eyes when the toy was close enough for her to see what it was. She loved soft toys because they would be safe enough for Amanda to enjoy too without risking to choke if she put something in her little mouth. 

Seeing how Tirwald was managing to share the attention evenly between Lysa and her older daughter, Rhoyne and Arash gave each other a look in agreement that it had been a successful first meeting for the future lovers. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The lands of Rhûn, Temple of Shadows:

“I know a secret, I know a little secret…” 

Lyanna froze in horror at that innocent-sounding sing-along voice, stopping in her work of scrubbing the stone floors because she was beginning to tremble in her whole body. Ever since that punishment two years ago where she had been immured in that underground chamber and nearly died as a result of not getting any water or food, the former Stark daughter had lost all her rebellious spirit because of how she had been basically buried alive and being surrounded by that total darkness has aroused a primitive fear of darkness within her as a result. Nowadays, she was terrified to do anything that could result in that punishment again, and Visenya had not hesitated to use that fear to show how she had begun to be influenced by the Lord of the Temple. 

“You were afraid of having to share Robert's attention with a girl that could have been my half-sister if he had wed you, **_mother dearest._ **” 

Lyanna could not believe what she just heard. How could her daughter, still only six years old, manage to unite the eye-catching Targaryen looks by looking like a living doll dressed up in her finest and yet sound as terrifying as the Master? And how had she learned about that bastard of Robert, the one who she had attempted to use as proof that she would be cheated on after the wedding?

“How do you know…?” 

“ ** _Poor, innocent Mya._** Used as a scapegoat and childish excuse by a girl thirteen years her senior, that she would never end up meeting anyway. Dear _mother,_ ” Visenya responded with clear irony at the last word, “You were so self-centered, and used to be the sole woman in the family and getting all the attention from grandfather Rickard and your brothers with no sisters or female sisters around, that you flat refused to realize that she would not live in the same household when you wed Robert.” 

The youngest child of Rhaegar Targaryen had found that she enjoyed teasing Lyanna about things that she honestly would not have known about without her ability to see the past. Just this very morning, she had seen her mother at fourteen while talking to Ned, the younger Lyanna trying to use Mya Stone as a reason to end her unwanted betrothal to the now King of Westeros. 

“ ** _Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it can not change a man's nature._ ** It happens to be the same for **_women_ ** as well, mother.”

Hearing her own words from that time, being verbally thrown back in her face, made Lyanna stare in horror at her daughter as Visenya merely smiled in triumph that made her look even more like her father than normally. The memories of what she thought to be a recuse from an unwanted marriage by a heroic prince, and Rhaegar promising that she would be allowed to live as she wanted, if only she gave him that third child that Elia Martell was unable to give him....

“Visa, it is time for the lesson in baking bread!” a female voice called from somewhere else. Even if Visenya was all but adopted by one of the Consorts, she still had to learn practical skills with the other girls. Leaving the despairing Lyanna behind, Visenya left. 

  
  


In the deepest and darkest chamber of the temple, Khamûl was in a pose that could have been mistaken as if he had fallen asleep, had he been a mortal. But while he did not sleep, something disturbed his senses still.

“ _Curse him...curse that son of the sea-woman, who Father sired on her! Curse him and his eventual descendants!_ ” 

It was a very faint voice, a feminine one. And one he had not heard for thousands of years, yet there could be no doubt about the hate and loathing in her voice as he heard the echo of a curse:

_Let his flesh be torn from his bones,_

_Let his blood leave stains as they beat him_

_Let him feel endless pain_

_Let his bones break into dust_

_And as they try to destroy him_

_Let him die a painful death_

_Let his bloodline ruin itself!_

_Since I could not help you_

_that day everything was lost_

_because of that betrayer!_

_Dearest sister of mine_

_I promise my own bloodline_

_to one day give your_

_descendants the help that_

_I could not give you_

_Sister of mine, the heiress_

_of our shared Father!_

At the last word, Khamûl hissed in pain as the old wound from the spear in his long faded-away chest began to ache again. Now he recalled who the owner of that voice had been, in memories that he had not thought off for so many centuries. 

“ ** _Neith_ ** …” his hands tightened around the golden crook and flail, “why do you show up in my mind now, so long after your death... **_my daughter,_ **born with that mark in your palm that looked like a crescent moon?” 

The peaceful daughter who had been named after the goddess of war, yet had proved one single time that her seemingly ironic names had actually been chosen well: 

On the night with a crescent moon where she had laid an eternal curse on another one of his now long-dead offspring from his mortal life, a disgraced son that Khamûl even to this day wanted nothing else than kill with his own powers as a sign of the betrayal that haunted his choice into becoming a Ringwaith. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegon's vision this time is a minor but harmless spoiler of what I plan for Sansa and Arya Stark in this crossover when the War of the Ring happens. Given that BOTH of the Stark sisters are sheltered and spoiled at the start of the GOT book, since they have very little experience with the world outside of Winterfell until coming to King's Landing and the royal court there, they will experience a different version of reality breaking their shared idealism and learn that when you only have each other as support, whatever differences in personality must be overlooked in favor of trying to survive together. Ned is a loving father by Westerosi standards, but he is horrible at treating his daughters in an equivalent manner and openly allows Arya to get away with things that Sansa could never do, because she reminds so much about Lyanna. 
> 
> No, Visenya is not becoming a villain for anyone else outside Lyanna, she merely enjoys the swift in power balance between them from what I hinted about earlier in chapter 5 because she actually was scared of her mother beating her up and her Targaryen side is reacting on that Khamûl managed to break that illustration


	21. Haunted dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doran and his family visit the royal court, and something goes horribly wrong

Year 3013 of the Third Age, Meduseld: 

This early autumn had marked the eighth anniversary of Théodred saving his future family. The royal twins were now three years old, and Rhaenys and Aegon took their roles as being good siblings seriously. 

“Sis, what is this?” prince Aégnor of Rohan asked his older sister, holding up a drawing that she just had finished. Rhaenys, who would turn twelve this winter, had become even better at painting during the last years. 

“Actually...I do not know. I could clearly imagine the hair styles, but the faces...were blank for some reason.” 

She had borrowed several of Mellario's old wigs as inspiration for the hair styles in the drawings when visiting Sunspear some days earlier, but added groupings of long, tassel-ended tails on the top one. Another hairstyle had bangs that did frame the face, while the longer back section was formed into waves or spirals that were draped over each shoulder. A third one was half-way down to the shoulders in length, and some golden crown in nearly the same style laying over the hair. 

“Be still, Balerion!”

Just like her big sister, Andréth loved the huge black feline and while Balerion tolerated the two youngest family members, there would never be any doubt that Rhaenys would always be his favorite human. 

“Where would tio Doran and tia Mellario travel with their family? They said that Quentyn had a fi...fi..” 

The youngest son of Elia tried to pronounce the word fiancée correctly, but it was not so easy to say it right at that age.

“It is just a meeting with a few people outside Dorne, Aégnor, just like your feder is meeting with an old friend of his from Gondor,” Elia explained gently as she picked him up in her arms. 

Boromir had met the twins a couple of times since he naturally wanted to see the children Elia had given Théodred, but they were still a little too young to remember him. Andréth was about to ask something, when Aegon returned indoors from his healer training out in a special building in Edoras.

“I see why they said that if I wanted to be a healer, I better start early...and train as often as I can on both common illnesses and injuries!” 

The half-dried blood on his fingers did reveal that today's lesson likely had been to sew cuts and wounds together, even under stressful situations. Most often, it was real humans who came to seek help from the healers, and it was not uncommon for the apprentices to do an examination and attempt at healing under watchful eyes. 

“Well, you managed to give Griff a nearly perfect first aid when that horrible accident happened to him, so you are becoming better and better.” 

Just last month, Griff had nearly lost an eye when a friendly training duel here in Edoras had gone very wrong thanks to a young horse getting spooked and his Rohirric opponent of the same age was kicked in the back, which in turn had caused the iron sword to cut Griff. The son of Lemore narrowly avoided losing his right eye from that accident, but at the cost of losing his sight and a long scar along his face as a memory. 

“I am glad that he was not injured any worse than that. He does not deserve to feel like he is worthless simply because he was almost made into a pretender for me…” 

Even now, with Jon Conmingon dead several years ago, Griff could still get haunted by the years he had spent as the false Aegon, and the whole Martell clan tried to help him find his own path. Still, it was promising that Griff and Aegon got along very well despite not meeting that often. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Outside King's Landing: 

Doran and his family had actually been invited to the tourney held to celebrate the birth of prince Tommen Baratheon, the long-needed spare to Lyonel. The royal infant clearly took after his Lannister mother, like his sister Myrcella who was only little over a year now. Well, two golden-haired children should please Cersei, who had earlier stood out like a sore thumb in the royal family by being the only blonde beside her black-haired husband and the first three children who were showing all traits of being Baratheons. The stillbirth of prince Joffery five years earlier had not helped much in that. 

“Quentyn and princess Elinor seem to get along, at least. Well, my brother admitted that he did not want to break her young heart by not showing up at the tourney,” Arianne thought as she carefully guided her brother and the seven years younger princess between the tents where various merchants tried to sell their goods. The Martells had only pretended to accept the offer of Elinor as a bride to Quentyn, for it was clear as day that Tywin Lannister hoped that Arianne would die young, or before being married, so her brother became the new heir to Dorne and his second royal granddaughter the future Princess Consort at his side. 

While still being too young to even understand what a betrothal or marriage was, Elinor was only happy to meet some new people and especially seemed to find the sun-themed jewelry of Arianne fascinating. 

“Pretty!” she smiled at the older heiress, who returned the smile as an act of honest kindness to someone who was the same age as her twin cousins. 

  
  


Once returning the princess to Holly, who once again was seated beside the royal children in her role as their nanny and governess, the two siblings joined their family in the seat for them. 

“She has done a good job with the royal children so far. Perhaps there is a chance Lyonel will manage to get a peaceful reign when that time comes, for he is rather even-tempered despite the personalities of his parents…” Doran began to say, as Gerion Lannister rode up against Ser Barristan Selmy with their jousting lances ready. 

“No, Mahaad is too little for this kind of violent games! He is already finding the cheers too loud,” Mellario muttered as her two-year-old son began to wail in growing terror, raising from her seat and intending to carry her youngest off to another place where it was more quiet. 

“ **_Hey, get off the track!_ **” 

No one knew how it really happened, only that the jousting lances broke into several pieces right in front of the Martells right as an unknown knight came riding. With a deadly war lance aimed right at Arianne, all while Gerion and Barristan was too far away to help. 

“Arianne!!” 

Doran pushed her out of the way, only to be hit with the war lance alarmingly near his groin area since his daughter took after her mother in height. 

“ **PADRE!!** ” 

“ ** _DORAN!!!_ **” 

The horrified screams of the Martell heirs and the Princess Consort drew the attention of Lysa and Tirwald, who had used the tourney for an extra meeting even if they would not do any love-making right now, the wrong time and place, sadly. And of course, they saw the unknown rider as the horse galloped right past them. 

“Help the Prince!” he requested in a hasty manner to her, grabbing a free horse to ride after the knight. As Tirwald had dressed up like an archer to help blend in among the bodyguards of the Martells, he took the chance to show off the skills of the Rohirrim with his riding. 

“You stay right here, bastard!”

His war axe, well-used in the past to kill orcs, was now a way to disarm the knight when he saw the tall Rohirrim warrior come after him. And since Tirwald had been killing orcs since he was an adolescent, it was hard to ignore years of fighting where you risked death by one mistake. 

“Damn, I am too used to killing orcs in one strike!” Tirwald swore when he realized that he had delivered a fatal hit at the neck with the war axe, causing the half-beheaded knight to fall out of the saddle down on the ground. But just in case, he searched through the dead body and did indeed find something that might be useful; a sigil of House Lannister. Perhaps someone among the Dornish could help explain this when things had calmed down.

  
  


When the dead body was found by his own household knights and the unknown killer nowhere in sight, Tywin Lannister mentally cursed. That sellsword should have known better than trying to kill the Martell heiress in open sight like that. A waste of money, that fool, indeed. All he had requested to have the girl killed in a staged “accident” that could not be tracked back to him. 

  
  


Thanks to his own healers from Dorne acting fast and quickly, Doran was freed from the lance inside a tent that had been ready for worse injuries, but there was no doubt about lasting damage to his thigh if he survived. 

“He will be crippled, I am afraid, Princess…” 

It did not matter if the healer was addressing Mellario or Arianne right now the most important was that Doran survived. 

“Princess! Princess!” 

Tirwald showed up, out of breath after needing to sneak around so he was not found by the Lannisters, holding up a sigil to Arianne. 

“I am sorry for killing the knight out of habit from killing orcs, but found this on the body.” 

Indeed, with the sigil everything pointed towards that Tywin Lannister had hired a sellsword for a “special mission” during the tourney. He had the money, and a motive in the betrothal between Quentyn and Elinor. Holly had confirmed in written letters that Cersei was not as brilliant as her father even if the queen would have liked it to be so, and neither Jaime or Tyrion would have much to win on having a niece married into the Martells unless it was for a better trade agreement. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

That evening, it was a tense mood among the dinner table as the royal family ate their dinner. Lyonel and Argella were the only ones among the children old enough to be present at meals like this currently, Elinor and Myrcella would still eat in the nursery due to their younger age. The royal children had been horrified by seeing the Prince of Doran almost be killed earlier this day, not helped by their beloved septa Holly acting so unlike herself about the attack, and the household servants had almost needed to pull them away from the guest chambers where the Martells stayed.

“If that sellsword was paid to kill Prince Doran, then the Seven punished him quickly. And I hope that his employer gets their share of it too,” Argella suddenly spoke up after not eating much of the venison. 

“Argella! A princess does not speak like that!” Cersei warned, not wanting to be reminded of how clearly her oldest daughter was a Baratheon. For the daughter of Tywin, the twins showed very little of their Lannister inheritage despite the fact that septa Holly had started to train them in reading and writing from an early age and she did not like that. 

“Mother, a Prince of Dorne was almost killed today, in the same area and surrounded by the _same people_ who would have tried to have **_his sister and her two innocent children_ ** killed eight years ago.”

Thanks to Cersei getting the attention of the twins, they did not see how Robert suddenly became uncomfortable, or that Twyin's glare hardened in dislike over being indirectly reminded of the failure of having Elia Martell and her children by Rhaegar killed. 

“Who among the servants have told you about how your father won the Iron Throne?”

Thankfully for Holly in that moment since it actually was her who had painted her cousin Elia as a innocent victim against Tywin as the “Greedy, two-faced Lion” in their bedtime stories, both Lyonel and Argella quickly named a couple of Lannister servants here at the royal court that was known as scandalmongers and how they had overheard those talk about the previous royal family while playing hide-and-seek some days before. 

“I see. They shall need to find a different place to work at, for I will not accept such gossip to be heard by you.” 

For their part, Lyonel and Argella were only grateful that they had managed to save Holly from being fired from her job in their household. 

  
  


During the night, Doran developed a fever. Since no one knew if it was the result of an infection from the wound, Mellario refused any outsiders to enter their guest chambers, fearing that her husband's weakened state would be perfect for a attempted murder in the form of posioning him though drinks or a faked medicine. 

“We brought excellent Rhoynish healers with us from Dorne, and we will **_NOT_ ** need any others that may be in the pockets of possible enemies!” she snapped at Grand Maester Pycelle when he came to offer his help in healing Doran and slammed the heavy oak door in his face. Knowing that she was viewed as a foreign woman from Essos here at the Red Keep, Mellario now acted as the very image of a faithful wife who took care of her ill husband. 

“Set...injury...Anhur...hunt down...Shu...destroy....” Doran muttered strange words in his feverish sleep, and some of them did not sound like anything his family had heard before, even with Ihsan working so hard to try translating the old texts from ancient times in Dorne. 

“Mãe, mãe,” Mahaad tugged on her skirt while saying the word for mother in her native language, “me hand.”

“Your hand? I hope that it is not one of the horrible mosquitos that have bitten you...oh no!” 

On her youngest's left palm, was the image of the spear glowing like it somehow was having a pulse. Had something magical been triggered by the whispers of Doran? 

“Arianne! Quentyn! Trystane! Get your things packed, we are returning home to Dorne **_NOW!!_ **”

Perhaps she was a little too paranoid by being in the same place where Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon had nearly been killed less than a decade ago, but Mellario did not want her family to be around if something mysterious happened and the Martells might be blamed. 

  
  


On the journey back in the ships that carried them to Dorne, the fever lessened and the wound healed better but Doran kept having mysterious dreams. He dreamed of a palace in sandstone, of women dressed in the same hairstyles as Rhaenys had drawn in her paintings together with fine white linen clothing, of half-grown children challenging each other to do a horse race in light chariots. The smell of incense in what seemed to be a service to the gods. 

“The names I could hear a faint echo of…” 

_Ramses and Meryre._ Those two names felt important, yet Doran had never heard those before. Not even seen in the old texts that his father would translate to find more secrets from the past. 

“I am sorry, Arianne, it seems like you will need to become my successor sooner than planned. I will be unable to do some of my previous duties as Prince of Dorne with this injury,” Doran said as an honest apology to his daughter on the last day before they would finally be home in their own realm again.

“Padre, you and everyone else will help me. If it is the wish of Mother Rhoyne that I must take your place as ruler of Dorne at coming of age in less than a year, then it has to be an omen of some kind.” 

Neither father or daughter could find any other solution to the problem that had shown up at the tourney. Doran was crippled, there was no way of hiding it, and he would have a harder time to walk without some form of support from now on. Perhaps he would even need a wheelchair in a few years time, if it turned out to become so. 

“Then I have only one request, my daughter; Do not feel pressed into choosing a Consort for yourself when you come of age. Give yourself two more years of freedom, so you can make a good choice when that time comes. Just do not get pregnant too young, for your mother and I will never forgive yourselves if you die in childbirth, and one that could be delayed until you are a fully grown woman.” 

Arianne nodded. Both her parents and sets of grandparents were a good example of marrying past the age of eighteen, so the wife did not risk being too young at her first pregnancy. 

“Si, padre.”

She intended to keep that promise, both to choose a husband when she was past eighteen and not give her parents their first grandchild yet. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Of course, the royal children were not happy at all the Martells left. For them, their visit had been something different, a bit of fresh air in everyday life as the next generation of the royal dynasty. 

“Why did they have to leave? They were so kind,” Elinor cried, hugging the doll that she had gotten from Mellario as a gift. Holly had her hands full to try to comfort the little princess, for Quentyn had left a nice impression on her despite the age difference and that the Martell did not plan to actually go through with the betrothal. 

“They were afraid that the maesters here in the Red Keep would not be able to give Prince Doran the medicinal treatment he needed…” 

Suddenly there was a shout from the windows to the nursery: 

“ **_SER GERION HAVE BEEN BITTEN BY A SNAKE!!_ **” 

As Gerion had not worn his riding boots of leather to act as protection against the snake bite, he got a fatal dose of the snake venom and died within a day from respiratory failure. 

And what was worse from the Lannisters outside the loss of Tywin's youngest brother, a raven arrived from Casterly Rock with the news that Rayelle had lost her third child in a misscarriage almost at the same time as Jaime was found to be bitten by a snake identical to the one who had killed Gerion. The first son of Tywin had narrowly survived, but to the cost of becoming partially paralyzed in his legs because his nervous system did no longer work as before. 

Joanna and Leia Lannister would never have a younger brother from Rayelle, sired by Jaime, to become the next Lord of Casterly Rock after their father and grandfather. And no one seemed to link Cersei's sudden overprotectiveness of Myrcella and Tommen with what happened to her twin, outside the understandable shock of nearly losing her brother in the same way as their uncle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the idea of Griff becoming blind in his right eye comes from seeing a couple of fanarts likely meant to be set in The Winds of Winter, and since he and Aegon is rather alike in appearance due to their mothers being first-cousins and both having a father from north of the Red Mountains, I wanted something that could make it easier for the Martells to know who is Griff and who is Aegon if they dresses up in nearly identical clothing for important events like a birthday in the family. 
> 
> Yes, Tywin hoped to have Arianne killed in some manner during their stay in King Landing so Quentyn would be Doran heir and Elinor having a bigger chance of becoming the next Princess Consort of Dorne. Sadly for him, the sellsword was killed by an unknown person, aka Tirwald, and Dorne is hardly going to look kindly on that their current ruling Prince was almost murdered in front of the royal family. Not a good image given what nearly happened to Elia and her children during the Sack of King's Landing
> 
> The snake that killed Gerion and made Jaime partially paralyzed is the Middle-earth version of a Egyptian Cobra. Sorry, Jaime, Tommen will be the only living son you will sire in this AU


	22. A new step into mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The younger Martell generation finds a new mystery

As one could expect, Elia was not happy at all to hear what Tywin Lannister seemed to have tried doing to her niece at the tourney.

“I swear, that if he keeps doing this to my family, I am going to find a way to actually try leading the Nazgûl into the Westerlands! Let us find out how fearsome the Old Lion of Casterly Rock will seem against real evil!!” 

In the way she walked around the central hearth in Meduseld, her personal spindle and piece of half-spun woollen yarn abandoned on the chair where she had just been seated, she would have reminded a lot about her mother Aria if Ihsan had seen her right now. 

“Great idea to remove the Ringwraiths for a while, but I can't promise that it will be a success,” Théodred responded, where he had just finished braiding Andréth's hair for the night and was about to start doing the same on Aégnor. 

“Can we let Balerion act as a frightening ghost to that mean man?” the princess suggested, to which the black feline meowed from Rhaenys' lap as if saying “ _ Only if I get a juicy reward as payment, kitten _ ” before leaving his young owner to go on a mouse hunt again. 

“Nice suggestion, at least,” King Théoden spoke up, where he mostly had watched his son and the younger generation together. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

That night, it was not only Arianne who dreamt strange dreams again. In fact, all her siblings and cousins apart from the five youngest found themselves standing together outside what seemed to be a sea port. When Nymeria knelt to see if she could touch the ground, her hand went through it. It was like they were ghosts, spirits that could watch the living world but not do anything. 

“Alright. This is not normal, that we show up in the same dream! And no, that city is none of the Free Cities of Essos, from what I can remember.” 

Somehow, it was not much of a surprise that even Griff had joined them, he was their second-cousin and grandson of Lewyn Martell after all. 

“Then why…”

Obara fell silent at the sound of a horn being blown. There in the distance, was a large dust of sand raising, as if a large group of horses was coming towards the city. 

“I have a bad feeling about that…” Aegon admitted nervously, and was quickly proved right when it turned out to be a large army of war chariots coming straight towards them. 

“Get out of the way!!” 

Even if it was a dream, not wanting to be run over by horse-drawn chariots was a natural reaction. As they crawled back up on their feet a nightmarish voice could be heard from the hill, where one single rider had remained: 

“ _ And there shall be a great cry through all the domains of the sea-people, such as never has been or ever will be again! _ ”

In the next moment, a massive sand storm took shape above the sea port city, forming itself into a snake ready to strike its venom into a prey or an unlucky person who walked too close. Then, it surrounded the city like a barrier, as the enemy soldiers somehow broke apart the city gates and started a massacre of the people living there since the civilians had no way of escaping, either to the port or out through the city gates. 

“You should not see this, Eli.” 

Together, Obara and Nymeria blocked their little sister's eyes and ears from the horrible sight. 

“Aegon...Aegon!!”

Rhaenys saw her brother collapse to his knees, holding his hands around his head as he cried in horror, his foresight acting up again but this time it was the past he witnessed. 

“No...please...no...not dragon fire….not dragon fire!!” 

  
  


And the scenario around them changed. Another unknown city with houses in mud bricks and massive temples built in limestone this time, but with one far more alarming sight above it; 

A dragon with three heads, and one very Targaryen-looking person standing on the central head. Despite that they had never seen such a scenario, the dragon putting the city on fire did not make any of them feel safer. In that the sight of the dragon was so unwelcome that Obara let the terrified six-year-old Eliana cling to her leg for security. 

“At least Trystane, Aégnor, Andréth, Obella and Mahaad are not here! It would have been a hell to make them not see this!” Quentyn yelped, instinctively backing away from a burning building as it did collapse close to them despite it being a dream and for once his female cousins did not think him a coward for his reaction. 

“Whatever this happens to be Aegon's dragon dreams acting up so we all see it or not, We need to wake up  **_NOW!!_ ** ” 

Given the not very pleasant history of the Martell and Targaryen conflict, they were not in the mood of being reminded of the past royal dynasty of Westeros at the moment because of the dragon. Fire and blood were not the way to create life, only death and destruction. 

“Excuse me, Aegon.” 

Apologizing in advance, Tyene tested to hit Aegon on the back of his head to see if it worked to stop the scenario around them. 

“Worth a try,” she declared at the failed idea when it did not work as hoped, though Aegon did not seem that upset unlike Rhaenys: 

“ **_Don't hit my brother!_ ** ” 

If there had been any risks of an argument starting between Rhaenys and Tyene over that, it stopped short when the furious voice of a adult man was heard screaming: 

“ _ I WILL NOT LET ONE WEAK LINK IN THE CHAIN RUIN MY DYNASTY! YOU DARE TO TAKE THE LIVES OF MY WIVES AND CHILDREN, CRAVEN SON OF THE WOMAN FROM THE SEA PEOPLE, AND TRY TO STEAL MY THRONE AS WELL!! MAY THAT TWISTED DESIRE FOR MY DEAREST DAUGHTER BECOME A CURSE ON WHATEVER OFFSPRING YOU MAY SIRE!! TO ALWAYS DESIRE WHAT IS OUT OF THEIR REACH, AND DOOM THEMSELVES BY THEIR ACTIONS!! _ ”

The raw fury and pain in the voice felt so real that no one of them doubted that they were witnessing a true event from the past. A male ruler, who had just witnessed his family be lost in the flames and seeing his realm become ruined by the dragon. Looking up, Sarella called their attention again. 

“Look! Is not that a snake like a cobra!?” 

Indeed it was a cobra, shaping itself out of sand and then striking the dragon's three heads with powerful bites despite that it could not be real. Yet something about the sand cobra felt unnatural, like something being twisted. 

“The source of that cobra...over there!” Griff spoke, pointing towards something in the distance among all the flames. A humanoid shape was standing in the middle of a dark mist, barely seen, but a unnerving glowing light came from the turquoise stone set in a golden ring seen on the man's finger. 

“I do not like that strange shape up in the sky among all the smoke…”

Why did it feel like they saw a hooded person smile in triumf? A person that really was dangerous?

“Ugh...please...no…” 

Losing his inner struggle and falling into a trance as Rhaenys tried to help him back up on his feet, Aegon spoke in a mysterious voice:

“ _ To remember, what must not be forgotten with time: Where the magic once was, and might be growing again. Beware of the Giver of Gifts, for he is not who he seems! Beware the white-haired son of the sea, the one who holds a dragon as his symbol… _ ”

The scenario suddenly faded away around them as a unknown voice said a strange verse: 

**_Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky_ **

**_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone_ **

**_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die_ **

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Gasping for breath as she woke up, Arianne found herself sitting up in bed. She was back in her own bedchamber, but that dream had been so damn real…” 

“Enough of this! We must find what is causing all of this! Be it Morgan Martell trying to show his origins or something…” 

Lightening a lamp so she could carry some light along, she left her bedchamber without even putting on her sandals. 

  
  


Those of the Sand Snakes who had been in the dream, her oldest brother and Griff were also running towards the Sandship. Only Eliana was not joining them, but Nymeria confirmed to have seen her half-sister run towards the bedchamber of Oberyn and Ellaria, most likely searching for the comfort of her parents after the horrible dream, which was a perfectly understandable reaction given how young she were.

“Too bad that Edoras is some days riding away, otherwise I think Rhaenys and Aegon would have come too.” 

Obara stepped on the hidden spot that had once hid the staircase, and they went down in the deepest chamber together. 

“It feels like the dream was a message of some kind...like a possible warning of what once happened, and what could happen again if we do not sharpen up? I only hope that it is not something like the Drowned God that the Ironborn worshipped...” Quentyn wondered, to which most of them nodded. But Arianne looked at what seemed to be a blank tablet built into the wall. 

“Tyene, do you have a non-poisonous needle on you? It feels like it is not ink that should be written on here, but rather  **_Martell blood._ ** A few drops should be enough.” 

Her cousin offered a sewing needle from a small pocket, and carefully picked Arianne in the thumb. As she spread the drops on the bottom, something did indeed happen. Like magic, words in the ancient language appeared on the tablet: 

**_Ahead is the sleeping place of the great Mother and her Son of the Martell bloodline. Only those with Martell blood shall find the right path. Trespassers' bodies will be eaten and their souls will be thrown into the darkness._ **

In other words, a warning that only those born in House Martell or being descendants of a Martell like Griff though his mother Lemore, would be able to find the mystery, no one else. 

“Hold on...Morgan is the first known Martell that we know about...could he have been buried near his birth mother?” Sarella muttered, “I mean, his name is remembered because he is the founder of House Martell, but why do we not know anything about his parents, the mother and father whose son have become so important in the history of Dorne?” 

A new, previously hidden passageway opened in the ground, with stairs leading down to the next room. 

“It is exactly that mystery that we are going to find out tonight,” Arianne responded in a serious voice, taking the lead as they stepped into the darkness. If this was a test for them, in order to see if they would be able to help Rohan in the coming war against Sauron, then they needed to prove themselves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of that one of Elia's betrothal gifts from Théodred was a beautiful wooden spindle crafted with the sun and spear of house Martell, since she likes to pass time by doing various textile work 
> 
> As this chapter is set in 291 A.C in Westeros and T.A 3013 in Rohan, Oberyn and Ellaria have not yet conceived their third daughter Dorea Sand. She will arrive next year in-story


	23. The tomb of Morgan Martell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hidden chambers holds a secret

On the way down, Arianne and the others noticed that the walls in the corridor seemed to be painted with figures in a strange manner. 

“Unusual style, I have to say…,” Sarella spoke. She would have wanted to explore more of the images that were painted in such a way to show a side view and a front view of the animal or person at the same time. For example, one painting to the right showed the head from a profile view and the body from a frontal view. Their main colors were red, blue, green, gold, black and yellow. Sadly she was gently pulled along by Tyene as they could not stop now. 

  
  


“I think we are coming to the chamber now.”

When they came down to the new chamber, a surprise awaited the two Martell heirs and their Sand cousins. Far bigger than what one could expect, the chamber were built in a strange manner. 

“It seems to be...a maze of some kind?” 

Obara was not the only one shocked over this. The north & south ends of this chamber were separated by a large chasm, with a narrow maze-like corridor providing the only way of reaching the exit, and it was impossible to see the bottom. 

“Then I wonder why those big statues armed with scimitars have been placed on the passage...eh?” 

Suddenly they were all reminded that Griff was blind on his right eye; he had stepped on a pressure-sensitive switch that he had not seen because it was near his right foot.

“Oh no!” Nymeria screamed when the entrance was blocked by a giant stone slab that fell down, separating her and Obara on one side, and the others in the chamber. A small hole in the stone allowed one of them to speak: 

“Get our padres and Griff's madre and tíos here! We were foolish to try this on our own…” 

Arianne did not manage to tell her cousins more, before another problem revealed itself. The pressure-sensitive switch also activated a moving spiked wall that came towards them, a proper incentive to "motivate" hesitant adventurers.

“Thank Mother Rhoyne for us growing up with an abuelo that always tells us to pay attention to the risk of possible death traps in ancient tombs!!” Quentyn said as he quickly took the touch from Sarella and then some steps out on the passage. As the passage was the only way of escaping the spiked wall or risk falling into the chasm, they had no other choice. 

“Quentyn, wait on us!” Tyene requested, dragging Griff along with her as he could risk losing his footing on the passage because he could only see in one eye. Arianne pushed Sarella in front of her to ensure that no one was left behind. 

But when the firstborn son of Doran was about to try to cross past the first statue, the statues suddenly activated for an unknown reason and began slashing in the air in front of them with their weapons. 

“Deaths from the sky!!” Quentyn cursed, which was very unusual for him, using some words from Norvos that tended to be an indirect mention of the dragons and their destruction with dragonfire. But when he took a step back, the statue suddenly stopped in its movement. 

“Hah? What happened?”

Not knowing an answer, Quentyn tried to take another step back to see what happened and the statue began to move again. 

“Quentyn, the position of your feet! They stopped when you put your left foot forwards!” 

“Left foot forwards? Like those ancient statues outside the Sandship whose feet are the only part remaining because of the passage of time?!” 

Whatever Morgan Martell had planned when he designed his tomb, it felt like it must be something lost in time. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Back inside the Old Palace: 

As Obara and Nymeria wanted to get help as soon as possible for their trapped relatives, they did not care if they woke up the whole palace staff. 

“ **_DAAAAAAAAD!!! UUUUUNCLE DORAN!! GET DOWN TO THE SANDSHIP AT ONCE!! WE NEED HELP!”_ ** ” 

Being a parent of six daughters in different ages and having changed a bit from his younger self thanks to being in a stable relationship with Ellaria, Oberyn was not amused at being woken up in the middle of the night. Eliana had a legal excuse of a horrible nightmare, but her two oldest sisters? Not so much. 

“I am not going to protest this time if Doran punishes my sweet Sand Snakes by having them spend the last months before Arianne's coming of age celebration as  **_scullery maids._ ** They should know better than causing trouble like they once did as children!”

Letting Ellaria remain in bed with their oldest daughter, he went to see what all the fuss was about this time. 

  
  


Of course, the current Prince of Dorne had not that happy over being woken up this late, especially as he already had suffered a bad day due to the injury in his leg he got in King's Landing. 

“It better be a very good reason for this. Otherwise, they will find out that I am not above punishing them to have some months of working as maid servants,” he promised Mellario, who shared his look of annoyance as she tried to block out the voices of Obara and Nymeria by holding a hand over little Mahaad's ear where he slept between his parents so he did not wake up because of his older cousins. 

“Or just send them to act as messengers between various strongholds in Dorne instead so they are spit up for a few months and won't act together,” she muttered, trying to not wake up their youngest. 

  
  


Walking with crutches worked for now, even if Doran knew that he would be exhausted later because of the effort it took for him to walk down to the Sandship. 

“What...is going on...here?” he gasped when finally coming down to the chamber that his father and Oberyn had found some years ago, where Oberyn was standing with a touch for light. He could hear the loud swearing of Arash and Morgan from yet another underground staircase, as some guards were helping them with something not seen in the chamber above. 

“Our  **_supposedly clever_ ** offspring had the brilliant idea to try finding the tomb of Morgan Martell deeper down under the Sandship, in the middle of the night,” Oberyn confirmed, as their father also arrived to see if there was something he might need to decode. 

“ _ Morgan Martell?! _ ” Doran and Ihsan said at the same time, sharing the skeptical tone of voice. Of all things to do in the middle of the night, this had to be one of the most stupid ideas ever the younger generation had gotten!

“We have managed to move the stone slab by adding drops of our blood on it, seems like there is something linked with the blood of House Martell from our late padre Lewyn!” Lemore called from the staircase, and Ihsan hurried down to see if he could help with something.

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Further down, Arianne, Oberyn, Sarella, Tyene and Griff had managed to pass over to the other side of the chamber without harm. All of them felt how tense they had been, scared for starting the statues again by stepping wrong. 

“Morgan Martell sure was clever when building this...I can only imagine how many attempts to grave looting that have been ruined by that hidden staircase can only be opened by Martell blood and then this crazy maze… someone who really does not want his final resting place to be found, indeed.” 

“I am more surprised by that he could have all of this built! In a time when the Martells were but minor Lords! How was it possible?” Sarella commented as they went towards the next chamber. Holding up her touch, Tyene read the text as best as she could: 

_ Now face judgement in the form of inner demons in your hearts. Those who overcome those shadows, shall be granted to enter the burial chamber itself.  _

That did not sound too comforting, but if it was meant to keep grave robbers away and protect his descendants if they were forced to come down in the chambers against their free will, then Morgan Martell perhaps had intended it as a way to separate those descendants. 

  
  


Again there was a large chasm, with only a single stone bridge. But something could be seen in the air. 

“I have a feeling that I know that shape…” Griff said in a grave voice, taking the other touch to ensure that he kept his feet on the bridge as he tested to walk over. Sure enough, the strange being took the form of a red haired man in armour, with a house sigil that once had been a noble House but degraded into a family of landed knights after the Rebellion that put Robert Baratheon on the Iron Throne. 

“Jon Connington!” Quentyn gasped in realization, and even if they did not see his face, they saw Griff tense up as he remembered the man from his early childhood. After all, he had once been kidnapped to be used as a false Aegon and Jon Connington held no love for Elia, who had been the legal wife of Rhaegar and mother to the real Aegon. 

“Iron Throne...your father's legacy...should be King…” 

But Griff did not want to remember those lies he once had been told. After all, as far as the Martells could tell, people would have believed him to be a Blackfyre descendant making use of the fall of the Targaryens. 

“ **_BEGONE WITH YOU, FALLEN KNIGHT!! I AM GRIFF SAND, SON OF LEMORE AND GRANDSON OF LEWYN MARTELL!! TAKE YOUR DAMN FANTASIES OF AEGON BEING THE SOLE SURVIVOR OF HIS FAMILY AFTER THE SACK OF KING'S LANDING BECAUSE YOU NEVER ACCEPTED ELIA AS THE LEGAL WIFE IN THAT MARRIAGE FOR THAT SHE HAILED FROM DORNE AND LET ME LIVE MY LIFE AS I PERSONALLY CHOOSE!!_ ** ”

By switching his touch around in front of him, it almost seemed like Griff set the ghost on fire as a way of banishing Jon Connington back to the afterlife. As the phantom image vanished, Arianne realized that she had to cross next. 

“Quentyn, Tyene, Sarella. Please stay here, I do not think all of us should cross the bridge. And I know what demons that rests in my heart.” 

True enough, as Arianne was almost where Griff was standing in the middle of the bridge, a phantom came up between them. A Targaryen-looking man in her own age, holding towards her a crown that she had seen in a portrait of the late queen Rhaella. 

“Iron Throne...restoration of the rightful royal dynasty...queen consort…” 

“ **_Get lost, Viserys Targaryen! I know how your cursed brother treated my poor aunt in their marriage, and your own mother was a victim of her brother, her husband, as well! I will rule Dorne as the next ruling Princess, and desire no other crown! I refused to be your betrothed in the past when that marriage pact was offered, and that shall remain the same!_ ** ”

Copying Griff from earlier, she borrowed his touch and banished the phantom away from her path. 

“Ari! You two better hurry to the burial chamber if you want to be there before Griff's uncles are coming over!” Tyene warned when she peeked out to see if the blocked exit had been opened and saw that Arash and Morgan had figured out how to cross the maze in the other room. 

  
  


The last chamber was indeed a burial chamber. Decorated all over the walls and roof in the style spotted on the previous corridor, at the very end, two sarcophaguses were standing side by side. Ancient grave goods had been placed around them, items in a style that Arianne had never seen before. 

“ _ Are you of the Martell bloodline? _ ” 

A ghostly image was seen above the left sarcophagus, a man who could be around the same age as her father Doran, dressed in but a white linen kilt-like garment around his waist that was extending down to the knees, a set of sandals and a strange striped head cloth, covering the whole crown and back of the head and nape of the neck and had two large flaps which hung down behind the ears and in front of both shoulders. 

“Morgan....Martell?” Griff whispered in disbelief, unsure what else to do. Arianne was mirroring his look of confusion, which seemed to make the ghost laugh. 

“ _ Correct. I am still here in the living world as long as there is a blood descendant of mine still alive. Sadly the same can not be said for my Lady Mother. Her soul is out there somewhere in the middle of death and life, wandering and searching for...well, someone who is the reason why our people ended up in Dorne. A person that she could never forgive, and never forget because of his actions that killed my father and most of her family before I left her womb. _ ” 

Morgan tenderly caressed the coffin lid that hid the remains of his mother even if his hand passed though the stone as a result of being a ghost, showing that their bond as mother and son must have been strong in life. That tender movement made Arianne find her voice again: 

“Your people ended up in Dorne? What do you mean by that? Are you not an Andal warrior?”

Morgan raised a eyebrow at the last question, as if that was the most stupid thing he had heard in a long time. 

“ _ The Andals? They arrived long after our arrival, when my bloodline had been in Dorne for many generations past my own lifespan and that of my own children and grandchildren. What do your history teachers tell you in the current times? _ ”

Both the Martell heiress and her second-cousin understood that somewhere in history as time passed, scholars must have thought the Martells to be among the Andals and written that false information down in official history texts.  __

“ _ Tell me, young ones: Have the dragon-blooded Stag defeated the Silver Dragon yet? My mother had the gift of foresight, and she said that their duel was important. _ ”

“Eight years ago! The Stag unknowingly saved my aunt and cousins from a man who would not have treated them well…” Arianne started, then blocking her mouth from revealing something that her ancestor might not understand. But Morgan smiled strangely. 

“ _ Ah. So Mother was right. When the dragon-blooded Stag defeats the Silver Dragon in a duel where the Dragon falls into a river, it will not be long before three of my descendants will find themselves back in the world where she was born. _ ” 

“Their crossing over to Middle-Earth was actually predicted?!” Griff asked, wondering what Morgan meant. The ghost straightened himself up, and held his hand above what seemed to be a spear on top of the coffin lid, in surprising good condition and looking newly made despite the passing of time. 

**_“Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken._ ** _ Those words were originally an oath my mother swore at my birth, as a hope for her descendants to never forget something from her past, a danger that she feared to end up haunting the later generations as well. This very spear was a gift from her father, who was lost to a curse, on the very day that my powerful grandfather and so many others were taken from her. _ ”

As Morgan spoke, the spear began to shine in a golden light. 

“ **_It is finally time for you, my current living descendants, to find out the true origins of House Martell._ ** ”

The gold light became tiny balls of light, two of them entering the hearts of Arianne and Griff, the others flying out from the burial chamber and into the hearts of all the other Martell family members in Sunspear. 

Three of them even found their way through the portal to Rohan, towards Edoras and into the hearts of the peacefully sleeping Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon despite the distance. 

All that they now had in common, was a memory scene starting in their minds. Of a different place, of a different time. And witnessing the long-done tragedy that had been forgotten with the passing of time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why only Arianne and Griff was crossing the bridge? Simple, Griff could have been the false Aegon living with Jon Connington and the Golden Company, and Arianne knows of the marriage pact that could have made her a queen consort to Viserys at a successful Targaryen restoration, Basically they refuse those possible futures for staying true to their Martell kin


	24. The ruler of Kemet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kingdom at its glory, and the seeds of doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the first one where we will find out an important secret from the past. Also, please notice that this flashback will be a couple of chapters in length because of that I want to get all the details right. // Rogercat

Year 2230 of the Second Age, the East of Middle-earth: 

A few men stood apart from the rest of the army on a small hill, waiting for the enemy to come forth. A tributary state had risen in rebellion in hope of breaking away from the desert empire, and now the rebel army hoped to weaken Kemet by defeating its army.

“Great Farao, the enemy is nowhere to be seen…” a kneeling servant spoke, but their leader, identified so by the blue crown he wore, waved his hand in dismissal. 

“I can smell them in the distance. They are not far away, so quit wasting time and get the men ready for an attack.”

Holding out his hand that held a flail, the Farao pointed to the north. It was from that direction that the scent had come, and it was his magical powers that allowed him to know that. 

Soon the soldiers saw that their king was right, and the general leading the army ordered an attack. 

“For the Farao! For Kemet!”

As the soldiers began to fight against the enemy army, the sounds of human screams and iron weapons with the hooves from the horses dragging the war chariots, the Farao crossed his arms as he used to when holding the crook and flail, the signs of his power. Yet those who stood around him, the royal bodyguards and servants, knew what was about to happen when their master began to chant a magical spell: 

“By the powers of Anhur, god of war and hunting, and Set, god of deserts and storms. Bring me victory in this fight, to protect my realm and people. In the name of the descendants I desire to give you as part of my legacy, grant me the power I ask for!”

A golden aura began to be visible around him, revealing that his magical powers would soon be released. Knowing what was going to happen from past experience the servants hurried away to get themselves a good distance away if the magic became dangerous. 

“Powers of the desert.”

It did not take long for a sand storm to form in the form of a cobra, and the Farao aimed it towards the backup troops the enemy had hoped to surprise the army from Kemet with. With those soldiers caught in the unexpected sandstorm and thus unable to help out in the battle, the enemy would have no chance. 

“ _ Let this become a warning to all the enemies of Kemet: Threaten this realm with war and devastation, and the inherited military skills together with the magic in the veins of my family shall defend it! _ ” 

The Farao knew what he spoke of, for his family had not only been a noble-ranked military family before the current royal dynasty, founded by Rameses I, his paternal grandfather, and vizier to the Farao of the previous regime, but his inherited magic came from Sitre, daughter to a high priest in the capital of Memphis, and his paternal grandmother. 

Thanks to the Farao and his magical defeat of the backup troops, it was a victory for Kemet. The king who had tried to make the tributary state into his own kingdom would deeply regret the idea as he stared death in the face. 

  
  


Once the battle was over, the survivors among the enemy soldiers were taken as war prisoners to become slaves in Kemet.

“Farao! We found a prisoner in their camp! A merchant from the West, it seems!”

Indeed, the foreigner was very fair-looking with pale golden hair and blue eyes with noticeable paler skin than was common here in the East, though naturally not looking his best after days as a prisoner and being forced to march through the hot desert with next to no chance to clean himself from the dirt and sweat in the evenings. Most likely, he had been captured somewhere during his travels and intended for slavery, since exotic-looking slaves from distant lands were expensive. 

“Great King of those Lands, forgive this insignificant traveler for not being able to offer my thanks for this rescue from a gruesome fate in any other way than offering the goods I hoped to sell in the markets of your kingdom,” the merchant spoke as he knelt so deeply that his forehead touched the sandy ground. A simple wooden chest had been found, yet painted in bright colours, perhaps for easier identification if it was lost somewhere, and the merchant showed why his captors had not been able to open the chest earlier: it was locked with a key that turned out to be his pleated earrings. Inside was a huge collection of gold rings, meant to be sold at markets or to jewellers in different kingdoms and empires to sell further to customers.

“What is your name, stranger?” the Farao asked as he picked up one of the rings, having noticed the stunning blue lapis lazuli stone in it. As the merchant was still kneeling so deeply, no one noticed a faint smile of triumph when the Farao touched the ring. 

“Annatar, my King…”

Sauron had heard about this powerful ruler of the East previously, of the magical power he possessed and his might. Seeing the Farao here in the flesh with his own eyes, the former lieutenant of Melkor was convinced that he had chosen the right person to seduce to his power. Again pretending to be very humble with gratitude for being saved, Sauron did not protest when the Farao gave orders that Annatar would be escorted to the nearest port from here and allowed to travel by ship to where he originally had been intending to before being captured. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

When the army and their leader returned to Memphis, with the defeated soldiers as war prisoners, words had been spread about the victory. 

“ **_Farao! Farao!_ ** ” 

The cheers of the common people could be heard all over the city. And it was a good reason for why there was such a festival mood, the king of those lands had once again lived up to the military background of his dynasty and proven himself a successful warrior that could lead his army to victory. And why not? The Farao was only twenty-three years old, healthy and sound of mind, and would undoubtedly reign for many more years. There was no reason to doubt that his future sons would grow to become capable warriors in adulthood as well. 

“Bless the royal family! The gods are blessing their son on earth!”

The Farao was not the only one in a good mood, and he showed it by ordering his men to eat and drink together with their families today to celebrate the victory over the enemies they had faced. 

  
  


On the great steps to his palace with its belonging lake and gardens in the great palace-temple complex just outside the capital, was there a big group of finely dressed women awaiting their shared husband. In front of them all, dressed up in the finest jewelry decorated with lilac amethyst, carnelian, turquoise and lapis lazuli as per her rank, was Nerfertari, his Great Royal Wife, the queen consort and mother to his heirs. Placing her left foot forwards, she showed the Farao the proper respect for him as a living god. 

“Welcome home, Husband. We have already ordered the court to prepare for a banquet tomorrow night, to celebrate your return and victory. ”

“A banquet sounds perfect.”

He smiled fondly at her, gently touching her face with a hand as a sign of affection. Then, to no surprise of the other wives, Nerfertari found herself hugged by him. Being the Great Royal Wife meant that she was the only queen, always remaining his favorite wife for as long as they had been married, even if the other wives were not exactly neglected. 

“Khamûl.  _ She _ has finally passed away while you were away, the princess who was your first wife. I have ordered her to be given a good burial as per the rank she was born with, but as she lived her whole life as a obscured figure in that small villa outside the palace and never was part of the royal court, there was little mourning,” Nerfertari whispered in his ear, using their close body contact to do so. 

Ah. Well, it was something Khamûl had been waiting for several years now. Fourteen years of marriage to a wife he had not even visited in her bedchamber to consummate their marriage since the royal doctors had agreed that she was unlikely to have healthy children.

“About time, I must say. It was cruel of the kids to keep her alive for this long, it would have been kinder if she had died young.”

In truth he barely recalled the frail child princess he had wed as a nine-year-old boy, the marriage only arranged to give his grandfather and father a legal claim to the throne once the boy-king, her frail and sickly brother, finally joined his ancestors before he had even reached the age of ten years. That loss of her brother had left this child princess as the sole survivor of the past dynasty, but since both the royal siblings had been the result of several generations of brother-sister marriages that had left her mentally handicaped to the point of that she remained like a young child all her life, prone to illnesses and being so over-sensitive that she would start crying at even a mild scolding and being afraid of nearly everything. 

  
  


Behind a large stone pillar, three young children were peeking out from where they had hidden themselves. Despite their young age, the princes being six and four, and the sole princess only two years, they were similar-looking more than enough to the Farao to be identified as the children to the Great Royal Wife. 

“Prince Ramses! Prince Meryre! Princess Mara! Come back to the women's part of the palace, your great father will come and see you there tonight when he has rested from his journey!” a nurse maid hissed as she finally found her three changes after looking for them since they had managed to escape from her watch thanks to a very good team work for their tender ages, somehow managing to bring all three along without much protests. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

The following evening, the banquet was held in the palace with all the royal court present. 

“My sweet children and joys! May the gods bless you to adulthood so I can keep being a proud father to you all!” 

Most of the children Khamûl had sired so far on his wives and concubines were still young, Nerfertari's first son Ramses being the oldest currently with his six years as she sadly had suffered a misscarriage only months after that they had been married at the age of fifteen. All of them showed signs of inheriting some form of the magic their father had, but it was little princess Mara that held the strongest magic for her young age. 

“Father, look at this!” 

Bringing along a toy spear that she had taken from the playroom, the little princess used her magic to fly a pomegranate against her. The aim was good, but as she was not yet fully mastering the magic, the fruit naturally broke in pieces because she had been a little too forceful and the fruit juice spread over the floor together with the pieces. 

“Nooo!” 

But Khamûl only laughed at the scene his daughter had caused without meaning it, because he could recall how his own first tries in magic back during childhood had not been so successful either. 

“We are all beginners at first, my little spear princess. Train more as you grow up, and you might be able to piece the pomegranate gently, eventually.”

  
  


After an entertainment of performance from dancers and musicians as the royal family and their guests enjoyed the food, a few of the vassal kings came forward to offer a gift to their King in the hope of proving their loyalty and that they had no ideas about rebellion. 

“Great Farao. It is with great honor as we present a rarity in these countries.” 

Borrowing some magical powers from a few priests that were present, a large tent made of blue and white fabric seemed to appear out of smoke. And as it was pulled down, a figure was revealed: 

A woman with pale skin, dark brown hair set up in a rope braid style and, highlighted by the traditional kohl makeup in Kemet, piercing grey eyes. Her blue dress was in a style that was called a peplos, according to travelers from far away lands near the sea. Around her wrists and ankles, a magical chain ensured that she could not escape if she tried. 

“She would look prettier for this presentation if she was not showing such an angry expression,” one of the other wives whispered to another at her side, and Nerfertari had to privately agree since they were standing right behind herself. 

“A woman from the sea-people, surely a suitable addition to the royal collection of beautiful flowers that belongs to the ruler of those lands.” 

The foreign woman opened her mouth to start ranting something in her native language which, based on her body language, was likely meant to reveal she was not a commoner but likely someone of high status. But that did not matter much here, in those lands that were not her own homeland, and if she did not show humility quickly soon, Khamûl would not be pleased by this gift. 

“Be quiet.”

Raising his hand, Khamûl put a silence spell on her. Nerfertari had never been punished in such a manner herself since she could read his body language rather well and knew when it was best to not annoy him, but her knowledge of her husband and his abilities came from eight years of marriage. This woman was a newcomer, undoubtedly only familiar with her own culture, and if she did not adjust to how things were here at this royal court, her life would not be an easy one. 

“Be gentle with her, husband. She must be acting out because she is alone in an unknown place and not having anyone sharing her language. I would feel scared and fearing what to happen as well.” 

Yet when the servants brought the woman away to be washed and prepared for her first night with the Farao, since Khamûl rarely wasted time in bedding a newcomer to his harem, Nerfertari met the grey eyes for a moment. 

_ A desert landscape that was not Kemet, a palace not built in their style at all.  _

_ A three-headed, winged beast that roared towards the burning sky, and three white-haired persons standing on each head before the second woman was suddenly struck down by a spear.  _

_ A young woman, who looked very alike what her own daughter Mara could possibly look like as an adult, holding a white-haired infant against her chest and a black haired toddler crawling up to join them in the bed. _

_ A white-haired adult man that came riding in a strange black body protection, perhaps the father of the infant, but there was something unnerving about those dark purple eyes he had.... _

Gritting her teeth, Nerfertari felt a headache being on its way. Some of her dreams at night were strange, yet somehow she had realized that she must have seen a forewarning about the rebellion against Khamûl. But what did those visions mean? She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to make out the last detail that was even more obscure than the others.

_ Some strange blue flowers, set in a wreath and placed around the head of a young girl who looked like the newcomer in the harem.  _

Opening her eyes again, Nerfertari knew that Khamûl would spend the night with the foreign woman and that she would not be able to change his mind about it. But she knew one thing: 

That woman from the sea-people meant some form of  **_danger_ ** in the long run. Danger against her husband, herself and their family. 

“If she gets pregnant, as some of the other wives have been after just one night with my husband… I must try to make it seem like she is losing the child in a misscarriage or both of them dying in childbirth!”

Almost like a confirmation of her sudden fears, she saw a possible vision of the woman with a male infant, and heard the bitter whisper from her lips:

_ Tar-Minyatur. _

As Nerfertari did not know Quenya, the language of the Elves in Valinor and the royal court of Númenór, she had no idea what the foreign name meant. But she would not have liked to learn that the name had a meaning of “High-First Ruler” and that it also was the royal title of Elros, the first King of Númenór. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Farao is the swedish word for pharaoh, which I chose to use in order to show that Khamûl is the ruler of a realm inspired by RL Ancient Egypt, and Khamûl is meant to be a magical version of Ramses II
> 
> Kemet is the name the Ancient Egyptians called their land, so I thought it fitting
> 
> Ramses and Meryre are real Ancient Egyptian names taken from some of the many sons of Ramses II. 
> 
> Anhur is the name of a Ancient Egyptian god of war and hunting
> 
> Set is a god of deserts, storms, disorder, violence, and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religion.
> 
> I am not trying to show ableism towards the princess Khamûl married as a child bride, but rather hint to realistic consequences of incest and similiar inbreeding over several generations. She is meant to present what the Targaryens would face in the long run without the links to dragons and whatever else in Old Valyria that lessened the chances of genetic mutations 
> 
> Sauron as Annatar using jewelry to unlock the box? Just a random idea of mine, to hint to that Sauron would most likely be familiar with various locks and keys from his time in Angband, and perhaps wanted to really ensure that no one else was stealing the Rings of Power that he intended for the future Nazgûl? Besides, I also imagine that he used different methods to make them accept the Rings even if they likely looked like common rings that could be found everywhere for those who could afford gold jewelry. 
> 
> As Númenor is an island nation and needs ships if they wanted to travel to Middle-earth, I thought it logical that they would be called “sea-people” by other Men who lived inlands. Also, Ancient Greece seems fitting as inspiration for their culture, right?


	25. The woman from the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Culture crashes, lies about a different culture and personal pride do not mix well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please notice that this flashback will be happening for a few chapters. Also, a big warning for abuse and less than pleasant behavior from various characters in this chapter. // Rogercat

Year 2231 of the Second Age, the lands of Kemet: 

Although Nerfertari had failed to make the Númenorian woman miscarry the child Khamûl had planted in her, the queen consort felt a inner relief when she was told that the newborn boy not only seemed weak and feeble, he showed no signs of inheriting the magic that several of his half-siblings had shown not long after birth. 

“Good news. That means he will not be a possible successor to my husband when that time comes. All three of my children are the official heirs, and Khamûl will never allow his children to marry each other.” 

No, her husband and his family was nothing like the previous dynasty, who had slowly inbred themselves into extinction and his first wife, the last princess of that dynasty, had been a living example of why brother-sister marriages would not go well in the long run. 

And Khamûl showed his open displeasure over the weak offspring the foreign woman had birthed him, by having the mother and child move into the very villa outside the palace complex where that princess had lived like a living shadow from the past. 

“Useless brat. If he survives childhood he will not even be worth selling off in marriage to our allies. No, let them both remain in the villa for the rest of their natural lives, I am not bedding her again if all her children turn out like that and sickly children rarely live for long even with the best of healers to care for them.” 

This was a hint to the more cruel side in him, that Khamûl rarely showed but also something his court and family knew. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Even for his mother, little Tar-Minyatur proved to be a disappointment. Only yet another reason to hate this dry desert realm in the middle of nowhere in the East where no one knew of the mighty kingdom that was Númenor! The mother glazed over to the basket of braided reeds where her newborn laid, whimpering weakly like a kitten. He barely had the strength to feed milk from her or the wetnurse that was part of the small staff in this villa. And she had hoped that her unborn child would be the key to success and wealth! 

“ **_I will not return to poverty or become a servant again…!_ ** ”

She had been born the youngest of five daughters in a landed gentry family, doted upon by her mother and living in whatever luxury that the father could afford with foreign servants from Middle-earth as a sign of their status as part of the nobility. Then, everything in her carefree life had broken apart when she was eight years old; Her father had been arrested for failing to pay a mountain of debts, money that he borrowed in huge sums to give his family a high living standards and the family had been split apart, the wife and daughters finding themselves stripped of the social status they had enjoyed previously, facing a lifetime of working as servants in a attempt to help repaying the debts. _ Debt slavery, _ they had found themselves into, all because both her parents spent and wasted money on their five daughters without thinking that the size of their dowry would affect the choice of possible suitors in the future. 

**_Milce._ ** The name she had been given already at the first day in the workhouse where orphaned children and the offspring of those in debt was spending their life before being sent to work as young servants, all because she refused to part with her personal belongings, the last remains of her life before the debt slavery. In the end, only a pale blue silk ribbon remained as proof that she had not always been a servant, who always saw her pitiful salary be taken away to pay her father's debts. 

When coming of age at 25, Milce had enough of spending everyday working for others, desiring a better life. It had been almost laughable easy for her to steal a rejected peplos dress the similar-aged daughter in the rich family had found “too plain” for her debutante ball at the capital alongside some smaller jewelry pieces, coins and escaping from the house in the middle of the night while her employers was away for the debutante ball. 

“It was so easy to fool people…” 

At the beginning, she had stayed somewhat low in the haven of Rómenna out of fear of being arrested for theft. But when trying to find a quick path to a better lifestyle, she had heard a interesting rumor that she immediately seen an unexpected opportunity to use: Namely that Ancalimon, the future King of Númenor, had a illegitimate child from a short-lived love affair prior to his marriage, whom he was said to neglect because the children in a legal marriage was meant to be his heirs. And Milce had seen a great opportunity to live in luxury if she played her cards right. Thus, her claim to be that illegitimate royal daughter had been born and used to make people take pity on her for having such a  _ cruel, irresponsible  _ father that left her to live without some form of supply. 

“So easy to keep up that lie about being his daughter from the wrong side of the bed sheets, when he remained inside the royal palace in Armenelos, the capital, always found in the company of his fellow nobles and courtiers seeking his favor, since that meant that the peasants and the other poor people of the population only knew him by rumors…” 

That lie had lasted for nearly 65 sweet, wonderful years where she fooled unsuspecting rich older people into giving her the financial support she needed for a life in luxury and making them think that she would tell her “father” how kind they had been to her, until ten years ago, when Tar-Ancalimon had taken the throne. Pretending that he had threatened to lock her up for not remaining a secret to the public because a royal bastard was viewed as a threat to the royal heirs in a legal marriage, Milce had fled to the colonies in Middle-earth. But her stay there had not lasted for even a decade, escaping while fearing that her lie would be revealed when a close childhood friend of Tar-Ancalimon had arrived as the new governor of the colony in which she hid. After escaping again, this time into more unknown lands far away from the colony with several pieces of jewelry and valuables to sell if she desperately needed money, she had found herself captured by slave-dealers and brought to this eastern lands with none of the refined culture and elegance she wanted for herself. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

As the years passed, neither Milce or Tar-Minyatur managed to endear themselves to Khamûl. The mother because she never stopped to show for everyone she met that she found Kemet inferior to her homeland, and the son for being the most sickly offspring he had sired so far. 

“She is not doing herself any favors by telling her son those nonsense stuff she is heard talking with him. A royal prince though his mother? No other royal families have powers here in Kemet. Besides, what sort of King would want a sickly grandson as his heir?” one of the concubines commented when a maid servant told royal harem about what happened in the villa. By now, Milce had lived long enough for the servants to have a rough guess of what she so often told her son. It was clear that she doted on him, tried to make her son think of himself as superior to her half-siblings because of what she claimed to be her true ancestry. 

“Farao will never choose her son as his successor, that is for sure since he always keeps his promises. He even promised to get my Neith a good marriage to the future King in one of our allied kingdoms despite that she was born without magic!” an lesser wife spoke up from where she was kneeling to pick up her own child, the female toddler in her arms happy waving her arms around when the sound of bare feet came closer: 

“Neith! Neith, look what I have learned today!” 

It was princess Mara, and she held a child-sized spear in her hands that belonged to her brothers. At seeing her, Neith opened her little hands wide, revealing a birthmark that looked a lot like a crescent moon on her left palm. 

“He really wants you to learn the art of war so you can help your brothers, that father of yours,” Nerfertari sighed over what her daughter was doing yet she spoke in a fond voice and carefully took the spear away so no one got hurt. 

  
  


As the royal children grew up and in number as well, it was impossible to hide for them that Milce and Tar-Minyatur tended to annoy Khamûl a lot. Most of the time he simply ignored them thanks to the villa being outside the palace, but it was not unheard of that he could actually strike them with his magic if they crossed a line with their behavior. 

“Mother, if father is so cross with them, why does he simply not let them move away?” Ramses asked one day when his half-brother ran over to his mother, wailing like a small child over that he had been scolded and then struck in the face with the Farao's golden flail for not doing well in school. 

“He does not want the  **_sea-people_ ** to find out that one of their women is here as one of his concubines. Your father is a mighty sorcerer, but even he has his limits,” Nerfertari admitted. So often she wanted to help her husband further, but her own magical powers were not so strong and mostly limited to random images in her inner mind that could be very difficult to interpret. 

  
  


Where Khamûl ignored his foreign-born concubine and her son, the same could not be said about the other children in the harem that were not born with magic. No, those sons and daughters were treated with love and care yet also knew to not cross a line, for their father saw that they learned from how Tar-Minyatur would be treated when he acted out. 

“I want to see you all to know the basics of whatever you show promise in! Be it medicine, horse riding, administration or serving the gods as future priests and priestesses!”

Even without magic, his children would know that if they married into other kingdoms that were allies with Kemet, they could spread the might and power of their shared father by their own children carrying his blood in their veins. And those who would get those powerful marriages, were not solely the heirs born from Queen Nerfertari, the children of his other wives and concubines would get a share of that too unless they took a different path in life. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

But when princess Mara was eighteen years old, in the year 2246 of the Second Age, something happened in the royal family that was impossible to ignore:

It all started with a return to the capital after yet another successful war, where Khamûl had not only brought his two sons Ramses and Meryre by Nerfertari along but also their daughter to see if her abilities with the spear would be good in war as well. 

“Mother, mother! Father has promised that I will be allowed to marry Khafu as a reward for making the victory even grander than expected!” Mara told a proud Nerfertari when they hugged. 

“Oh, that young priest that you have grown so fond of over the years, what a joy to hear! And you will be a High Priestess if you marry him!”

The royal family knew the priest in question: Khafu belonged to a respectable priest family here in Kemet, and the family members could belong to different temples even if they served the same God or Goddess. 

  
  


But there was one who did not show any joy for the coming marriage of the princess. 

“ **_A priest?! He is going to let her marry someone like that? No, I will not allow it!_ ** ” 

For all of her doting upon her son and constantly telling him of how much better her homeland was than Kemet, Milce was pretending to not notice that he was obsessed with Mara. And not in a very good way either. No, Khamûl would never allow two of his children marry each other, even if they were truly in love, because he still recalled how his first wife, the last princess of the previous dynasty, had turned out as a result of that custom for rulers to marry their own sisters.

“Tar-Minyatur, please do not do anything rash, I do not want you to be stricken again by that brute who sired you...stop right there, Tar-Minyatur!” she called when looking up and seeing her son running off towards the palace. 

Of course, since Tar-Minyatur were hardly known for his use of common sense or being the most intelligent among the royal offsprings, it ended in the most horrible way that could go wrong. He made the fatal mistake of trying to assault Mara just as she was making herself ready for the feast that would be held for celebrating the victory, and found out the hard way that she seemed to expect something such for a long time. 

“ **_Did you think that I was unaware of those creepy glares you always send towards me, you freak?! FATHER!! FATHER! YOUR SON BY THAT SEA-WOMAN TRIED TO FORCE HIMSELF ON ME!!_ ** ” Mara screamed as loud as she could, to get the attention of the palace guards, her brothers and the Farao, while Tar-Minyatur got a first-hand lesson in how well Khamûl had trained his oldest daughter in using a spear to stab someone non-fatally as well keeping a attacker on a distance. 

Thanks to her maids acting as witnesses, Khamûl did not doubt for a moment that his daughter was speaking the truth. And then Tar-Minyatur found himself on the receiving end of the worst fury he ever had seen his father in:

“I should never have accepted your mother as a new addition to the harem in the first place.”

That was the only warning, before Khamûl used both his crook and flail to guide his magic into first slamming Tar-Minyatur into the thick wall, then breaking his hands by the same magic. Undoubtedly, it was his screams of pain that led Milce to arrive.

“What are you doing to my son, you human monster?!” 

But Khamûl had felt her scent long before her arrival, so when Milce came running, he held a cudgel in one hand. And thanks to that he was still physically fit for a mortal man who was 39 years old, he brought down that weapon upon her head with great force. 

“Mother...mother, mother!” Tar-Minyatur screamed in growing horror at seeing what was happening to her. But no one dared to stop Khamûl as he kept beating up Milce. His very aura was threatening anyone who would try to interrupt what he was doing now. Seeing her daughter trembing in her whole body, not from the shock of her father's brutality since she had witnessed it during the war but rather a delayed reaction on the sexual assault, Nefertari gently pulled Mara along so she would not have to be in the chamber anymore. 

“ **_MOTHER!!_ ** ”

By the time the Farao stopped, blood was slipping out from Milce's head where she laid unconscious on the floor. 

“Take them both out in the desert to where we leave criminals sentenced to death and leave them to the mercy of the sun there!” he ordered as the guards began to pull away Tar-Minyatur from the room. In other words, Khamûl would let them die a slow, painful death by dehydration and heat stroke, all because he had enough of Milce not bothering to learn much of the customs of Kemet during the sixteen years she had lived there and constantly pampered her son while raising him to believe that he was better than his half-siblings despite all the evidence to the contrary. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Once they had been left out in the desert, chained to two separate rocks where they would be able to see but not touch each other, it became clear that the strikes against her head had been almost fatal from the start. Milce never regained consciousness or even made any form of reaction as her son pleaded in growing desperation for her to wake up. 

“Mother…mother, please, wake up...WAKE UP!!” 

At the second dawn since they had been left to die, Tar-Minyatur had to face the bitter reality that his mother would never wake up again. And whatever negative feelings he had against his father earlier, now grew as he viewed her murder as proof of the barbarism Milce always claimed to be the characteristic trait of the Southern Lands unlike the superior culture of Númenor. 

“Mother...I promise...to...avenge...you…” 

The merciless desert heat during the day and cold during the night had already proved Khamûl right when it came to his half-Númenorian son, that Tar-Minyatur was too feeble to survive on his own without some form of protection in physically difficult situations. 

“My, my. What a cruel King, indeed. Leaving a wife and child to die like this.”

Suddenly a shadow fell over Tar-Minyatur's face, but he was almost unconscious from thirst and therefore could not make out Sauron's form as Annatar properly where he stood in the sun. Sauron could feel that Khamûl's inner darkness was growing, but saw a great opportunity to hasten the plan to make the ruler of Kemet his immortal slave by using Tar-Minyatur. 

“Do you want power, young man? Do you want your own descendants to become powerful lords and perhaps even Kings of a realm they perhaps conquers one day in the future?” 

“.... **_yes_ ** …” Tar-Minyatur barely managed to whisper, and as he fell into unconsciousness, he did not see Sauron smile in triumph. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Milce is a female variant of a name meaning “greedy one” in Quenya 
> 
> In case anyone wonders, the “foreign servants” Milce recalls from her early childhood were actually slaves that had been brought from Middle-earth because the Númenóreans became too proud and desired more wealth and power. About S.A. 1800 they established dominions on the shores of Middle-earth becoming a brutal maritime empire that had no rival. They demanded tribute from the lesser peoples which they had liberated and taught and were now oppressed. I would not find it impossible if the wealthy actually had slaves alongside normal servants in their households, as a indirect sign of moral decline
> 
> Milce pretending to be a royal bastard is based on that in RL history there have been impostors claiming to be royalty in hope of getting wealth and high social status. Also, Tar-Ancalimon's legitimate son Tar-Telemmaitë was born in S.A 2136, fifteen years after that he became King and there is no mention if he married before or after his coronation, so I would not be surprised if Tar-Ancalimon did have a few love affairs in his youth which caused the rumour of him having a illegitimate child 
> 
> Those who wonder how Khamûl might look like in his fury here as a mortal, this is how he would come off like for those who enangers him: https://c-sf.smule.com/rs-s79/arr/8c/10/960ee146-44b2-4e07-a1df-60e3cab02f94.jpg


	26. The fall of a dynasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A royal festival goes horribly wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason I tagged Major Character Death for this story // Rogercat

The realm of Kemet, year 2251 of the Second Age:

Things had changed in other ways over the past five years, such as some of the royal children being sent to allied kingdoms to marry into the royal families there. Now at the age of eighteen, it was time for princess Neith to join those siblings and while she was sad to leave her family, she knew that her father would not marry her off to someone who would treat her ill.

“Neith, I want you to have this.”

Khamûl held out a set of bracelets made in gold and garnet stones to her, which she accepted.

“You were not blessed with inheriting some of my magic, but those bracelets shall grant you that ability once. Only one time, so you must choose the reason to use them carefully, especially if you intend to cast a curse or a blessing on someone.”

The princess nodded, realizing the unspoken warning her father hinted at. If she used the bracelets wrong, no one could know what happened as a result. Besides, she had grown up with tales of people misusing magic with horrible things happening them for not listening to such warnings, so the Farao could trust her to not trying anything stupid.

“I promise, Father, and I will do my best to not cause harm.”

Despite his own magical powers, Khamûl was well aware of how hard it could be to hold true to such promises. Like how he had treated that foreign woman and her son, he had promised Nerfertari to never kill one of his harem women or children with his own hands because his magic could make it alarmingly easy to turn one act of discipline into a fatal strike. And she had been right five years ago, it was only the presence of Mara, and her mother hurrying to remove her from the scene, that had prevented him from killing Milce on the spot.

“I trust you in that, my daughter.”

  
Neith was perhaps born without magic, but Khamûl knew that she had inherited her own mother Ahmose's ability to become firmly loyal towards those she loved, and that was proved in that she counted as the best friend of Mara despite being five years younger, just like how Ahmose was close to Nerfertari outside being the most favored secondary consort.

“And we will come and visit you at some time, we just can not tell an exact date for it,” Meryre promised as he helped Neith up in the fine boat where she would travel in the bridal party that would become her own courtiers in her new homeland. She was to marry the newest King of Dorwinion, who ruled on the other side across the Sea of Rhûn.

“Mara! Promise to write to me when you have given birth! I want to know whether you get blessed with a son or daughter in six months!” the younger princess called over the song and music played to signal the start of her departure.

“I will do that, no worry!”

It was impossible to say if they would meet again, but Mara intended to keep that promise to all of her ability.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

About four months later, the royal court of Kemet was preparing for a Sed festival, where Khamûl would celebrate 30 years of ruling, counting the years since he had been crowned as a Prince Regent at 14 years as a sign of being the successor of his father Seti. As part of those rituals to ensure that nothing would go wrong, the priests prayed for their ruler.

“...father? Father, what is happening?” Khafu asked, when he noticed that his father suddenly went quiet in the middle of the prayer. Their family did not have magic like the Farao, but it was not unheard of them sometimes getting strange visions that could be a foreshadowing of great events.

“....Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star…” High Priest Imhotep muttered, as if he had not heard his son. Then, his eyes became clear again, as if he had not been acting strange at all and as proof of how important that vision must be, Khafu had to run after his father into the part of the great temple where Khamûl would take a bath in the sacred pool to purify himself both physically and mentally before the festival.

“Great Farao!” Imhotep called out to get the attention of his ruler at the same time as he placed his body flat on his stomach against the stone floor in prostration to show the deepest respect he could give, “Blessed be both your daughters Mara and Neith, for the yet unborn sons they both carry in their wombs this very moment! I have seen Mara's son fated to be born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star in the sky, as a sign that she will be the mother of a line of ruling Princes and Princesses in a land not so different from Kemet. And princess Neith's son is the ancestor of yet another mighty Prince, who is promised to become the ruler of an empire!”

At first, Khamûl was shocked by those strange words the High Priest spoke, but as he realized what this could possibly mean for his daughters by their future sons, he smiled in joy.

“A line of ruling Princes and Princesses! A Prince that is promised! The Gods have indeed blessed my daughters, and I am proud to be their father!”

He felt so overjoyed that he had no idea what to say next.

“Make Mara ready for an added ritual as soon as I have finished dressing and preparing for the Sed festival! I shall give her a new name as a sign of what the future holds for her bloodline! And I will travel over to Dorwinion to bless Neith in the same manner!”

Imhotep rose to his feet in response, promising to have his royal daughter-in-law ready for the ritual as quickly as the servants could.

Of course, Mara was also shocked when she was told by her father-in-law what he had seen, and why she needed to dress up in her finest ceremonial clothing as the wife of the future High Priest since Khafu was going to succeed his father eventually.

“Salt and smoke? That could mean I am to give birth in my father's palace near the sea, or the salt of my tears because of the labour pains, and possibly be surrounded by incense to clean the air.”

During the summer, the royal family lived in that palace to avoid the warm winds from the desert. Besides, it was only a few weeks left before they would move there anyway, so no one would find it strange if Mara gave birth there.

“Possibly. But I am scared that it could mean some form of danger, as well. A bleeding star...could that perhaps be a comet in the night sky? Stargazing is an important part of our religion after all,” Khafu admitted as he gently laid her favorite Usekh collar over her shoulders and fastened it.

“That, dearest husband,” Mara responded with great fondness in her voice,”is something we will find out when I give birth.”

Rather than kiss her and risk ruining her makeup, Khafu placed a hand tenderly on her pregnant belly. It was two months yet before their son would join them here in the world.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Unlike what their sister had worried slightly about on the way to the area outside the capital where the Sed festival would be held, Ramses and Meryre were actually happy to hear what sort of fate awaited their still unborn sister-son.

“What a joy, sister! A line of descendants that will be rulers in their own way is a powerful legacy for yourself as Father has forbidden sibling marriages in this dynasty that our great-grandfather founded, and that Neith will have a possible Emperor as her descendant!”

“Dear sons of mine, spare the boyish joy for your sister until later, and act with dignity for the festival, please?” Nefertari smiled as she caught them in a shared hug. She felt happy for her daughter as well, but that celebration had to wait until after the festival.

As the festival started with a praying ceremony, Khamûl took the chance to bless Mara for the future that she would have. Placing his crook and flail on her shoulders, he spoke in a loud, clear voice:

“My first daughter, born from my Great Royal Wife, the bloodline which shall come from your son, is hereby bestowed the family name of Martell. ”

Martell. Somehow, Mara felt an inner omen of some kind at hearing the name since it meant “Union of spear and sun” in the language of Kemet, despite that she did not have the same ability as her mother.

“And what better proof of them being the heirs of the Spear Princess, than a spear for you?”

Taking the spear that her father held towards her, Mara's intended words of gratitude was interrupted by a shout:

“ ** _FARAO!!_** ”

Suddenly, a strange roar was heard in the air from above, and a shape revealed itself as it came closer. A dragon, most likely from the north, but unlike what most tales of them said, this one had three heads.

“Cursed harbinger of doom!!”

It was just narrowly that Khamûl managed to summon enough sand to form a barrier above the city against the dragon fire before his gathered people were harmed, but even as the sand formed into glass, it was impossible to escape the massive heat.

“Father!”

Showing a good use for his ability to control water, Ramses tried to help his sire by summoning water from canals and forming the liquid into spinning around the barrier without breaking it. Without hesitation, the other royal children with the magic inherited from their father joined in to help.

“Meryre! Have the soldiers guide the people into the temples and palace for better protection! Nefertari, bring Mara and our family members away!”

Nodding, the Great Royal Wife understood the unspoken order. As the Queen, she was the leader for the female part of the royal family and expected to act as such. And even if the common people normally were not allowed inside the temples, a dragon attack was not a normal situation.

“You heard the Farao! Get going!”

She did not allow the priests to protest against the commoners entering the holy temples, pushing two of them ahead with her own hands to stop an unneeded argument.

“Let this damn country vanish into FIRE AND BLOOD!!”

Horror flooded over Nefertari as she realized the voice from among the flames. It was a voice they had hoped to forget to have ever existed with the passing of time. The unwanted son from that foreign woman, who they believed to have died out in the desert.

“How can he still be alive…?!”

And then an unexpected attack came towards Khamûl. A magical seal made out of dark magic, that pushed him towards the outer wall of the palace, binding him to the stones without being able to move.

“Father!” Mara screamed, but Khafu pretended her from running off as the barrier above them broke. Since the Farao was the one who had been the main holder of the barrier, it now broke without his magic despite the efforts of his other children and the glass pieces rained down over the unprotected humans together with pieces of fire. And with the pieces of fire hitting the houses, fires broke out alongside that people were hit fatally as well in their desperate attempt to find shelter.

“Father....!”

Before Ramses could do anything to free Khamûl from the magical bindings, a figure showed up between the ruler of Kemet and his family by jumping down from the middle dragon head. Even with his hair now bone white and his skin paler than before, there was no doubt that it was Tar-Minyatur with a look of madness in his eyes.

“It is time to pay back for all the treatment my mother suffered through. A very kind Giver of Gifts saved me from death and gave me the means to pay back more than twice over,” he spoke in a chilling voice that did not promise any mercy. Instinctively, Ramses and Meryre moved in front of their own wives, children, mother and sister while the rest of their siblings also made themselves ready for a fight.

“I do not know how you managed to survive five years ago, but if you still desire our dear sister, then you can forget about taking her as your wife!”

Even with Khamûl magically trapped like this, he had his faith in his sons. They would try and deal with Tar-Minyatur, in the hope of giving him enough time to try breaking the seal with his own magic.

“Kill him! Make sure that he really dies for real this time!” he ordered over the screams of the city behind him. Yet as Ramses and Meryre made their first attack together in the hope that their joined strength would be more powerful, Mara used her magic to throw her newly gifted spear towards the three-headed dragon.

“Not so fast, sister dearest.”

By unleashing the dark magic that Sauron had borrowed to him, Tar-Minyatur absorbed the magic from his half-brothers into attacking themselves and rather than hitting the dragon, Mara spear entered a small portal.

A portal that showed up again in front of Khamûl, and made the spear strike deeply into his unprotected chest.

“Husband!”

Nerfertari was not the only woman in the royal harem who cried out in horror at seeing what happened to their lord, all of them fearing that it was a fatal hit that could make the horrified Mara into a kinslayer without meaning to.

“Mara, hurry!” Khafu pleaded, dragging her along towards the temple in the hope that he could bring her to safety. But Tar-Minyatur trapped them inside a magical cube, from which they could not escape.

“Brothers! Help us get out!”

Because the sight of their father being injured and their sister trapped with her husband made them lose focus, the two sons of the Great Royal Wife failed in time to see Tar-Minyatur make the dragon aim for them next.

“ ** _RAMSES!! NERYRE!!!_** ”

But it was too late. The two heirs of Khamûl by Nerfertari were burned alive under painful screams, and to make it all worse for those who witnessed it, their own wives and children were caught in the dragonfire as well.

“Papa…!”

The scared cry of Ramses' three-year-old daughter calling for her father as the fire burned her to death and her burned body fell down on the sandy ground, her little hands still reaching out for her parents, was a sight that no one could forget.

“Now time for you, stepmothers…”

Despite the attempts of their children to protect them with magic, all the women in the royal harem found them killed in horrifying manners by the dark magic, and their various offspring as well. It was no coincidence that Nerfertari was left as the final wife alive, held in one spot by the same dark magic that prevented her husband from moving or doing anything to help.

“You were never a worthy son of the Morning and Evening Star,” she spoke in an icy voice, not showing any fear as Tar-Minyatur came close to her with a dragger in one hand,”if you desire to become the target of your father wrath, then go ahead and kill me. But you will never have my daughter!”

As Tar-Minyatur drove the dagger into her chest, Nerfertari used the last remains of her own magic to break the prison where her daughter and son-in-law were trapped inside.

“ _MOTHER!!_ ”

In horror, Khamûl saw his beloved wife fall dead to the ground with the dagger still in her body, and how his son-in-law desperately tried to shield Mara from any possible attack by standing in front of her. Khafu knew that Mara was the target, and their unborn child as well.

“Only one left before you are finally mine, sister...”

Tar-Minyatur did not care that Mara was pregnant by her own husband, he intended to make her give birth prematurely and kill the child sired by Khafu so her womb would be free to accept a child from him instead.

“Never!”

But her defiance came at the cost of Tar-Minyatur driving the spear deeply into Khamûl's chest by the dark magic. If nothing was done soon, he would die from the blood loss.

In fact, the loss of blood had already weakened the Farao, as he realized when his sight began to turn blurry.

“....no…”

This feeling of powerlessness, the sight of his beloved wives, children and grandchildren being murdered in front of him as he was unable to stop it from happening…

_Do you want to save her?_

He did not know where that voice came from, but it sounded oddly familiar from somewhere in the past.

_Do you want your sweet daughter to survive, Farao?_

Khamûl did not know it, but it was Sauron speaking into his mind through the Ring of Power he had accepted twenty-one years earlier. And the Dark Lord saw a golden opportunity to enslave the Farao of Kemet as one of the immortal slaves to his power thanks to what Tar-Minyatur had caused now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorwinion is a land of lush gardens on the banks of the River Celduin, famed for the quality of its wines, which were traded at least as far away as the northern reaches of Mirkwood during the Hobbit/Quest for Erebor timeline in the Third Age. Little is known of the land or its culture, but apart from their skill at the making of wine, its people were clearly also equipped to trade long distances along the river, and perhaps also across the Sea of Rhûn, on whose shores they dwelt. I thought it logical that their fame for good wine may have started already in the Second Age, so Neith is marrying the King as part of strengthening a trade agreement
> 
> Sed festivals were jubilees celebrated after a ruler had held the throne for thirty years and then every three to four years after that. They primarily were held to rejuvenate the pharaoh's strength and stamina while still sitting on the throne, celebrating the continued success of the pharaoh.
> 
> Yes, I hated it but I made Ramses' daughter the same age as Rhaenys when she died in canon
> 
> Sauron did not really give Tar-Minyatur any magic, only a lesser Ring of Power that had a limited amount of magic inside. As for how Tar-Minyatur controls the dragon when they are not alike the dragons in the Valyrian Freehold, well, imagine it to be mind-control so he can ride it


	27. A fallen ruler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of House Martell in Dorne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of the flashback, it was difficult to write because I wanted some horror in it as well // Rogercat

“ _Do you want to save your sweet daughter, Farao?_ ” 

Normally, Khamûl would have been suspicious about hearing an unknown voice in his mind, but this was not a normal situation. He could not look away from the dead bodies of his wives and children, knowing that if he had not been trapped in the seal, they could have still been alive…

If Mara was killed as well, then Neith could become the last one of his children who was alive, only escaping thanks to her marriage a few months ago. And if this traitorous son of his went after her as well…

“ ** _No. Not my two remaining daughters and the futures that their sons would bring. A dynasty is like a chain, no stronger than its weakest link…_ **” 

From the Ring of Power on his finger, a spiderweb of dark markings began to slowly spread over the hand and arm on the Farao in a manner that was not visible on a long distance. 

  
  


So far, Khafu showed why Khamûl had allowed him to marry his beloved daughter. Having holy magic, even if it was just a small amount, was a sign of someone acting as a protector here in Kemet, and this he now used to protect his pregnant royal wife and their unborn son. 

“Mara, I can not keep up for long! Both your damned half-brother and that dragon are too powerful!” 

She did not blame him for admitting that he was running out of energy now after needing to make a protective spell around her, not when he had gotten injured earlier and the blood loss was clearly affecting him. 

“I am still able to help out as well, even when pregnant!” 

Using her own magic in a gentle way, Mara tried to give her husband a little more energy. A side-glare told the princess that her father had not yet managed to get free, which did not exactly ease her inner fear. 

“ _I must do something to avoid that Father ends up dying from that spear wound…!_ ” 

If only that spear was removed and that binding spell broken…

“Mara, get down!” 

Pushing her down on the ground, Khafu held up his index finger and middle finger together in front of his forehead to form a new protection spell. Despite that it did cost him the very same energy that Mara had just given him, he used the holy magic to force out the spear from Khamûl's wound. 

“Father! Khafu!” 

With her magic, Mara summoned the spear back into her hands to prevent Tar-Minyatur from harming the Farao again. Yet she did not doubt that if nothing was done soon to change the situation around them, her father would indeed die and so would her husband. Khafu was very drained on both normal energy and holy magic now, one more attack from her half-brother or the dragon, and he would kill himself by fatigue from overusing the amount of magic he had. 

“Khafu...please…help me ensure that our son will be born alive…! Father...he promised...” she pleaded with tears in her eyes, not out of terror but out of desperation. Her husband looked at her, understanding the impossible choice that his wife faced, that she had to choose between the life of her father and son. No matter which one she chose, there was little doubt that she would end up as a widow if things kept going the way it did. 

“ ** _MARA, GET YOURSELF AND YOUR SON OUT OF HERE ALIVE!!_ **” 

Somehow, Tar-Minyatur seemed rather alarmed at hearing that Khamûl was able to speak again with the spear removed. As if he had expected Farao to be totally paralyzed, unable to use his magic to do anything to prevent the murders of his wives, other children and the destruction of his realm. 

“Be quiet, damned King of savages!” 

By using the lesser ring of power that Sauron had gifted him, Tar-Minyatur attempted to silence Khamûl again. But suddenly, he became aware of an orange light right as he was about to strike the Farao. 

“What…?” 

It was Khafu, who had just impaled his own hand on the spear Mara held. The glowing light came from her, since her magic seemed to be triggered with both the blood of her father and husband. In fact, her normally black eyes were glowing a warm orange as well. 

“Farao...our son shall ensure that your bloodline shall live on!” 

Khafu felt that his own life energy was slipping out of his body, that he was not far from entering the afterlife but he wanted to give Mara as much strength she could need. 

_Break those blood ties_

_Between me and the_

_treacherous one_

Stabbing the spear into the ground so a glowing image of the same spear appeared behind her, Mara stood firmly with her back straight. In fact, as she did so, Tar-Minyatur felt as if he was the one being stabbed in the chest instead of their shared father, even if it was just a phantom pain. 

_For those who shall come_

_Those of my blood_

_My distant future kin_

_May they one day be_

_The ones to destroy_

_The taint you leave!_

Now as Khafu collapsed, the spell appeared to catch many of the still alive civilians and court people that were around. 

“You are just the same as our cursed father! The bearer of a magic that is not natural…!?”

But the response to his intended attempt to kill her, was not what Tar-Minyatur expected. Instead, Mara chose to release the spell in a desperate attempt to save her unborn child. 

“ ** _Unbowed. Unbent._** **_UNBROKEN!!_** ” 

By using her spear to gather together the magic that her murdered siblings once held, Mara unreleased a massive amount of powerful magic as the orange light seemed to take over everything else. 

  
  


Far away in her new palace where she was the equivalent to a Great Royal Wife in Kemet, it was as if Neith suddenly saw the scenes in her homeland like she was indeed there for real. 

“ _Older sister!_ ”

But even if she had been inheriting magic from Khamul, the former princess of Kemet would never have reached out in time to save her family. Screaming in fear and as she saw Mara vanish in the image she saw inside her mind, Neith collapsed down on her knees, feeling her own child kick faintly inside her own womb. 

“No...no...sister...please…please be alive…!” 

Crying in despair while she hugged herself as if protecting the unborn child under her heart, Neith knew that something was about to happen with her father that she could not reverse on her own. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Once the blinding light vanished, Tar-Minyatur could not see Mara or Khafu anywhere close. But the portal she had created to escape. was not yet closed. 

“Trying to play hide and seek, sister? Forget it, I will find you….”

Suddenly, out of the smoke from the fires around, Khamûl appeared with a furious look on his face, but something was not normal. He was surrounded by a dark mist, and rather than the normal black colour, his eyes were now dark orange with a black slint instead of his pupils. 

“ _I WILL NOT LET ONE WEAK LINK IN THE CHAIN RUIN MY DYNASTY! YOU DARE TO TAKE THE LIVES OF MY WIVES AND CHILDREN, CRAVEN SON OF THE WOMAN FROM THE SEA PEOPLE, AND TRY TO STEAL MY THRONE AS WELL!! MAY THAT TWISTED DESIRE FOR MY DEAREST DAUGHTER BECOME A CURSE ON WHATEVER OFFSPRING YOU MAY SIRE!! TO ALWAYS DESIRE WHAT IS OUT OF THEIR REACH, AND DOOM THEMSELVES BY THEIR ACTIONS!!_ ”

The raw fury and grief in his voice, as well the dark aura around him, seemed to make Tar-Minyatur finally realize what a mistake it had been to kill his half-siblings and stepmothers in the royal harem. But it was too late to regret his actions, for Khamûl formed a gigantic cobra out of the surrounding sand to strike the three-headed dragon, proving that the dragon could be killed if sand did enter through the mouth and was melted by the dragon fire inside, forming deadly molten glass inside the dragon. When the dragon fell dead down to the sandy ground, the two side heads fell off, revealing themselves to be completely normal crocodiles that Tar-Minyatur had transformed in the hope of making the mind-controlled dragon even more deadly. 

“No…I will not lose to you…?!”” 

Tar-Minyatur tried to summon the magic inside the lesser Ring of Power he wore, but suddenly it slipped off his finger and vanished into thin air. In that very moment, he also heard Sauron in his mind: 

_Thank you for being the bait to ensnare your father under my power, Tar-Minyatur. Now I no longer need you when I have him._

In horror, Tar-Minyatur realized that he did not have the offered magic anymore, and was defenseless against his father, who looked ready to murder him with his bare hands. As he ran towards the portal in a desperate attempt to flee now when he no longer had the dragon, Khamûl followed after. 

“ ** _I will not rest until I see the end of you and any of your future scions!! Harm Mara, Neith or their sons, and your descendants shall become the doom of themselves! You shall live with knowing that they will fall from grace and become less than beggars!_ **” 

As Tar-Minyatur threw himself into the portal, he was struck in the back by Khamûl using his magic to turn his last remaining male offspring into a near albino with pale skin, white hair and purple eyes. This did not only ensure that Tar-Minyatur would have an even harder time to get help if he survived, it also made him stand out even more among people. 

But as the portal closed, there was no doubt that the Farao of Kemet had become a slave of Sauron and his country had fallen thanks to the actions of Tar-Minyatur. 

“The sea-people...that cursed woman! Her son killed my wives and children, so I will repay that by killing her own people!” 

Thus, five years after her death, Milce became the unknown reason to why the Númenóreans in their colonies at the shores of Middle-earth and later the people of Gondor during the Third Age would face Khamûl as the second most powerful Nazgûl, no one knowing that it had been a female con artist from Númenór who caused his hate of them. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

In the large peninsula that one day would become known as Dorne, the southeastern coast: 

Many of the palace servants and civilians had no idea where they were, only that princess Mara had used her magic to save them from death by the dragonfire. Many were still injured, so the doctors hurried to try saving as many as they could, with the limited items and medicines that they had on hand. It was a raw, heartbreaking crying that led the surviving palace servants to where the oldest daughter of the Farao was. 

“Princess! Princess Mara!” 

She was kneeling in the sea water, holding her husband's still body in her arms and wept over that the magical portal had lost his life. 

“Khafu...Khafu…! I am so sorry, I am so sorry…” 

But her unborn son kicked inside her womb, as a sign that she could not give up her own life now. Laying her hands on her stomach, the foreseeing ability of her mother Nerfertari seemed to act up: 

She saw her son, and the line of descendants he would have. How Tar-Minyatur had escaped thught the portal as well, but instead ending up in the Valyrian Freehold where he would become the founder of a low-ranked line of servants to the Dragonlords called House Targaryen. The coming of Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar as she led the Rhoynar to Dorne, and her marriage to Mors Martell as her Prince Consort. How the Doom of Valyria ended up acting as a bolt of lighting from a clear sky towards all the magic across the world, even killing three adult Martell sisters in the middle of doing a magical ritual to protect Dorne, leaving only a infant boy as the new Prince of Dorne with his mother and two aunts dead because of the interrupted ritual ending up killing them instead. The blind Meria Martell giving her famous warning to Rhaenys Targaryen, the marriage between Myriah Martell and Daeron II Targaryen, and Rhaelle Targaryen marrying Ormund Baratheon without knowing what her own future grandson would do to the dynasty from which she hailed. 

“ _When the dragon-blooded Stag defeats the Silver Dragon in a duel where the Dragon falls into a river, it will not be long before three of my descendants will find themselves back in the world where I was born. Though the death of a male descendant of mine in the same battle, the portal between the worlds shall once again awaken._ ” 

Laying down Khafu's still body on the ground in a respectful manner, Mara rose to her feet with the spear in her hand. She had the scattered remains of her father's people to lead and protect, and an unborn son to make a home for before she would give birth in two months. 

“ ** _Morgan_ ** **,** ” she whispered tenderly to her stomach, “you will be the founder of a great House.”

Mara knew that she would not live to see her descendants return to the world where she had been born, but she would use her inherited magic from Khamûl to protect them even from the afterlife when she died. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Khamûl turned into a Nazgûl for the sake of protecting Mara and Neith, as well his two unborn grandsons, Morgan Martll and his male cousin. He wanted the power to kill Tar-Minyatur in order to save them, despite knowing that he could possible end up regretting it 
> 
> As for how the dragon was killed by the molten glass, imagine the effect something like how Smaug was killed by the Black arrow shot by Bard the Bowman in the Hobbit book/movies: A vulnerable spot normally well hidden by the scales, but in this case, the dragonfire turned out to be a weakness as Khamûl managed to force in a huge amount of sand though the open mouth thanks to his magic
> 
> Yes, I believe that the Targaryens actually were not dragonlords or even nobles in the Valyrian Freehold at all, but rather a servant family to some minor noble in the capital Valyria, and that Aenar Targaryen actually escaped to Dragonstone with his pregnant Valyrian wife after stealing some dragon eggs and a big amount of the gathered wealth from a temple or something such. This idea comes from that the current Targaryens seem to be rather ignorant when it comes to Valyrian history, culture, and magic, with the only surviving traditions being dragon riding and incest. Likewise, while most Westerosi nobles know the entire history of their family, which can often stretch back for thousands of years, the Targaryens know almost nothing about their ancestors before the Doom of Valyria. This is noticeable odd because it means that the early Targaryens did not bring any type of historical documents with them when they fled Old Valyria, they never made any attempt to write it down themselves, and they never verbally passed the information to their children. So basically, I think Aenar honestly was illiterate because of his servant status and did not have enough money to employ a Maester to teach Daenys & Gaemon how to read and write, and perhaps he even made up the idea of Daenys having visions of the Doom of Valyria twelve years before the event to have a official explanation for why their family survived 
> 
> Basically the Martells lost their inherited magic from Mara and Morgan with the Doom of Valyria. The then current Princess of Dorne and her two sisters tried to use a magical ritual to protect Dorne from the impact, but they sadly got killed when the ritual went out of control and the new Prince of Dorne was only a infant, so their ties to their ancient past in Kemet was lost from that generation on. But Meria Martell still had a bad feeling when Rhaenys Targaryen said their House words “Fire and Blood.” It triggered an unknown instinct about danger in her, that actually was a reaction to the fact that the Targaryens are the descendants of Tar-Minyatur. The magic reawoke when Lewyn Martell died in the battle at the Trident, where Robert and Rhaegar had their foretold duel


	28. Forgotten ties to the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it is sometimes regretable to forget details from the past

The burial chamber felt very dark when the memories from the past vanished, which made Arianne and Griff disoriented for a few moments. Again Morgan Martell spoke, and there was no mistake in that he was grieving the loss that his mother had faced: 

“ _ Just as my paternal grandfather said on that fateful day when Kemet and most of its royal dynasty was lost, I was born under a bleeding star in the form of a red comet among the smoke of fires and the salt from both the tears of pain from my mother and the sea. My birth was the last time my mother and aunt would see each other, even if it was only in a vision as a sign that my mother had survived. _ ” 

This time he did not show them the whole flashback, but rather two images that mirrored each other. of Mara giving birth to Morgan as the start of House Martell, and a still heavily pregnant Neith as she used the magical bracelets to cast a curse on Tar-Minyatur and his descendants, the Targaryen family.

“ _ Despite being in different worlds, House Martell has at times been able to sense the dark path that my grandfather has taken even if they have not always understood why. And I do not doubt that if the Giver of Gifts were to find out that my mother gave birth to a bloodline that holds magic, even if it was nearly lost with the Doom of Valyria, he would undoubtedly order my grandfather to hunt House Martell down and bring you to Mordor to be used in his plans. _ ” 

Arianne shuddered, recalling from the flashback how powerful Khamûl had been already as a mortal man.How powerful would he possibly be now, as a Ringwraith for over 4 00 years in the service of Sauron? But before she could ask if he had any rough guess about that, Morgan Martell looked over her shoulder.

“ _ Let the spear remain on the sarcophagus of my mother for now. The time is not yet right for it to be used again, but it will not be many years left. _ ”

Griff felt unnerved by those words. Was their ancestor referring to the coming war against Sauron that Rohan tried to prepare already now, hoping that their loss of grown men in battle against orcs and innocent civilians of Rohan would not be as severe. Morgan faded away, just as Arianne nearly jumped in fright at the hand that suddenly landed on her shoulder:  __

“Arianne Nymeros Martell. We have some **_talk_ ** to do _. _ ” 

Doran had managed to cross the maze and the bridge with some help of his cousins, and as she was nervously giving her father a side-glare, the heiress of Dorne did not doubt for a moment that she, Quentyn, Griff and the four oldest Sand Snakes would get the scolding of their lifetime for what had happened here in the Sandship tonight. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

The day after, in Rohan: 

“To think that House Martell is that old, in terms of lineage…” the Queen mother, Morwen, spoke in slight awe when Elia had finished telling of what the dream had revealed. She had originally hesitated to tell her in-laws that the Martells actually were descendants of Khamûl, of all people, but felt that it would likely cause a misunderstanding in the long run. 

“If the portal was opened as a result of your uncle Lewyn's death acting as a key to reawaken the magic in your bloodline...perhaps his last thoughts must have a been a prayer for you and the children to be saved from whatever fate that would have happened if I had not shown up.”

Given the situation that he had saved them from, that fateful day, Théodred did not doubt for a moment they likely would have been killed. All because of the actions of Rhaegar Targaryen, because Rhaenys and Aegon were his children who could have their own claims to the Iron Throne if their father died before them and Elia his legal wife. 

“Yes…” 

Elia really hoped that it must be her late uncle's last wish that created the portal between the worlds so the Prince of Rohan could save them. After all, she and her children had been the hostages of Aerys, used against Dorne so they would not join the Rebellion that ended up putting Robert Baratheon on the Iron Throne instead of Rhaegar, Aegon or Viserys as the male descendants of Aerys. Lewyn had managed to send Rhoyne and their four children out of King's Landing because no one paid any attention to a set of five servants, but she and her children remained locked up in Maegor's Holdfast. 

“Elia,” her father-in-law spoke up after some long silence, “you and the others of House Martell must be very careful now when they visit Rohan. If any of you use magic carelessly, the Shadow of the East may sense it through the portal between Hallowdale and the Old palace, and come to hunt for the one who holds the magic.” 

Given that Rhaenys did not seem to have any magic outside her skills in drawing and painting, it was understandable that Aegon looked nervous at what his step-grandfather mentioned. 

“Uncle, should we at least tell Boromir and Faramir that House Martell has an ancestor who witnessed how the Shadow of the East fell into the service of Sauron? We do not need to mention exact details, only that Morgan Martell's mother escaped from the destruction that followed,” Éomer suggested, which the other adults agreed to be a good idea. The two sons to the Steward of Gondor could help to look into historical records about the Nazgûl that could perhaps prove to be useful at some point in the coming war. If the descendants of Mara and Neith were fated to meet, they needed to plan carefully. 

“Even if Kemet was lost with time...surely there must be a seat somewhere in the East where Khamûl may be at times?”

Elia had no idea about how right she was, given that she did not know about the Temple of Shadows in Rhûn.

_ CRASH!!  _

The sudden noise made them all jump in fright, before two young, annoyed voices was heard: 

“Balerion!!”

“Do not jump up to fright the cooks like that in the middle of making food, stupid cat!” 

It was Andréth and Aégnor, who had tried to save one of the jars with blood orange marmalade, transported from Dorne to Edoras not many days previously, from something the huge tomcat had caused. 

“I will write to Boromir about this later,” Théodred promised, as their normal duties needed attention again. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

In the Old palace, the younger Martell generation agreed that the punishment was not that bad, given how the underground tómb of Moran Martell and his mother Mara was so well protected by death traps. Sure, the Sand Snakes and Griff had to help the kitchen staff with washing dishes after each meal and all the other tasks to do in a big castle kitchen for the following months, Arianne got herself stranded with doing Doran's daily work until her coming of age, as a taste of how her life as the ruler of Dorne would be, while Quentyn found himself helping the stable grooms care for the horses of his family. 

“I think you got the best deal, brother, as taking care of the horses are part of the duties for a squire,” Arianne commented when her ten-year-old brother arrived from the stables, smelling of horses. 

“Actually, sister, the true origins of House Targaryen being a family of servants explains so much about them and some of their odd behavior over the nearly 300 years that they were the royal family...I mean, they did not bring along any documents from Valyria, as if they tried very hard to hide the shameful secret of their real past in order to seem more impressive for Westeros.” 

Yes, it did. And thanks to hiding their own origins like that, House Targaryen ended up causing trouble down the way for the later generations. Arianne could imagine how Viserys and Danerys would deny the truth, claiming the real family past as servants to be a massive lie that people had invented in order to justify that Robert Baratheon was the rightful King instead of Viserys as the survival of Elia's children had to be kept secret, insisting about them being the “blood of the dragon” and other kinds of nonsense that House Targaryen claimed about themselves. 

“I am so grateful that padre refused that damned marriage pact that could have made me the queen consort to Viserys at a Targaryen restoration. Now when we know the actual past of Morgan Martell and his origins, I am wishing even more that King Robert gave Rhaegar a painful death with the blow from his war hammer!” 

No, the true past of House Martell might have started in grief and blood, but that was not important to focus on now. Arianne needed to prepare herself for becoming a legal adult in only a few months, as well that she would rule Dorne for real two years later at the age of 18, hopefully with a future Prince consort at her side to marry not long after. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My RL birthday is on 9th December, and guess what I would love to see? A lovely set of fanart for the crossover, possibly in the form of a moodboard or aesthetics, and since some of you may have different fancasts for Elia and House Martell, I tend to imagine Tom Hopper as Théodred, from his role in the 2014 movie Northmen: A Viking Saga. Or if you fancy something for the modern AU “How behavior affects relationships”, the model Nils Kuiper as a modern-day Théodred (seriously, he is gorgeous with the long hair braids)


	29. A coming-of-age ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for Arianne to be counted as a adult

Year 292 A.C, the Old palace in Sunspear: 

It was finally time for the heiress of Dorne to be a legal adult. The dawn of this day seemed to be extra strong, as the sun raised to bathe Dorne in a golden light.

“I am planning to honor House Martell's true origins by my clothing today. We have forgotten it for too long and it is time to stop forgetting the past,” Arianne said as the whole Martell clan had gathered for a shared breakfast, even Elia and her family had come to witness this important event. 

“Yes, I think that is a wise idea, and in a way bringing back attention to where our family hails from originally. It should also make old Arryn uncomfortable since he has no idea what those clothing and jewelry means for House Maerell,” Doran agreed. 

“Best of all with that it is the Lord and Lady Arryn with their little daughters who comes here to be the guests from the royal Baratheon court, we all know that it is not him who have  **_blessed_ ** Lysa this time with a baby in her belly,” Oberyn smiled, earning a light kick on his shin from Ihsan under the table as reminder to not mention that within earshot of Jon Arryn when their belated ship finally arrived to Sunspear. 

In a secret letter five months previously, Lysa Arryn had confirmed that her third pregnancy was most likely the result from a secret visit by Tirwald, as it had been over ten days between his last love-making to her and when Jon Arryn had came to her bed in yet another ineffective attempt to fill her womb with his old, weak seed. Ten days was long enough for her to become pregnant again without her old husband knowing that it would not be his child. 

“While regrettable that Tirwald can not claim the child as his officially, it will be nice for Andréth and Aégnor to no longer be the only known children in Rohan with a mother from Westeros,” Théodred smiled as his own future successor to the crown of Rohan tried to offer a piece of bread to little Dorea Sand, who laid peacefully sleeping in her baby sling.

“She is too little for eating bread yet,” Ellaria said kindly to Aégnor when noting what he tried to do, “she needs to be six months before she can try anything else than my milk or she will get a belly ache.” 

“Oh,” the young prince of Rohan responded, suddenly feeling foolish for not knowing that before. But Elia was quick to comfort her younger son with some sweet words that he was very kind to share his food even if Dorea was still too young for it. The royal twins of Rohan were only a few months from turning four years old and so far they remained the youngest members of their paternal family, so it was perfectly understandable that their experience of babies and children younger than themselves and any new maternal cousin was quite limited so far. 

“Ari!” Andréth called to get her 12 years older cousin's attention, “Is there anything we can do during the ceremony?”

“I think you will do great in helping me carry the flowers that I will place on the altar that was ordered for the ceremony and finished a few weeks ago.” 

Arianne meant it when she said that she would honor the lost culture of Kemet, the now long-gone realm in the East of Middle-earth from which House Martell had their origins, today when she came of age. For the first time in 4 197 years, a ceremony like the ones for the royal family of Kemet would be held again. They did not know if Khamûl might somehow sense it, but Arianne had to go though the official ceremony as proof of being the undoubted heiress. With a history of so many Martell children dying in the past because of the inbred Targaryen blood in their veins, living to adulthood was not guaranteed. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Meanwhile, on a ship leading towards Sunspear: 

“I told you that we should have traveled as soon as that stormy weather outside King Landing had finished! What sort of impression do you think we will leave on the Martells by being too late to witness the Princess' coming of age-ceremony?! But noooo, you had to be present when the Small Council yet again failed to come up with a good solution to the royal debts!” 

If one were to compare the current Lysa with her younger self at the unwanted wedding to Jon Arryn, so had she stopped being so timid. Her self-confidence had grown, not least thanks to Rhoyne, her two daughters who needed their mother and the carefully hidden secret that Jon would never see a son of his own flesh and blood succeed him thanks to her having Tirwald as a lover. 

“Surely you are overreacting over that we got delayed to start sailing. Besides, with the King having grand feasts and tourneys at least once a year, and the effects of two Rebellions less than a decade apart that cost a lot of men from all the Seven Kingdoms as well a huge amount of money from the treasury...” 

“I am perfectly aware that the crown's income is affected by the Rebellions and loss of smallfolk to tax, lots of nobles from the Vale have complained in letters about a lesser amount of workforce in the fields than before! Why do you think that I have allowed Rhoyne to start teaching the girls domestic skills that are originally made by servants so we do not need to pay for more maids in my manor?!” Lysa snapped at him, not mentioning that Celia and Amanda had started to learn the skills that even noble daughters in Rohan was expected to learn for their future lives as married mothers, from what Tirwald had told her. 

For Jon Arryn, who had always seen his young Tully wife as just an insecure, foolish girl because of their age difference and expecting no more than that she would give him children in the marriage, the change in her character was something he did not know what he would do about. In fact, something about the way Lysa proudly carried herself with now when she was hopefully pregnant with their needed son, actually frightened the old Lord Arryn as it felt like he watched a different woman from before. That she had lost her virginity before marriage was also something that the proud Lord Arryn could not respect, given that Lysa was a high-ranking noble daughter and should have been kept under strict surveillance by her septa or some other female servant, an older Lady's maid, precisely to prevent such a situation. 

“Uuuugh…” 

Not far from her parents, poor Celia once again was struck by seasickness since her nearsightedness did not mix well with the rocking movements of the ship and finding it impossible to find a fixed spot to focus on. 

“Are we there yet?” Amanda Arryn asked loudly, having grown tired of the sea view since long and being alarmed by the fact that her sister once again had thrown up the small amount of food she barely managed to eat during the journey. 

“Soon…”

But Jon Arryn was quickly reminded that such young children as his second daughter could not be expected to behave well for long. Amanda had barely twelve weeks remaining to her third birthday, a age where logic did not come easily, and naturally acted as her age: 

“ **_Celia is SICK, stupid old man!! Sail faster! Sail faster! Sail FASTER!!_ ** ” 

To further show her displeasure over what her old father had said, the younger Arryn heiress ran around her parents in circles as Rhoyne once more tried to help Celia with some ginger for her sea sickness. 

“Honestly, how are you allowing her to behave when she needs discipline…” 

Then Lysa did something that would have shocked Catelyn if Lady Stark witnessed her younger sister in that very moment; she slapped her husband, hard enough to leave a red mark on his cheek and with enough force to make Jon Arryn stumble backwards in shock. 

“Say anything like that again about **_my_** **_daughters,_** and you shall live to regret it, my lord,” Lysa warned in a dangerous voice, showing that she did not intend to play the role of a submissive wife to him anymore. The power balance in House Arryn was slowly changing, and there would be nothing that Jon Arryn could do to keep things as it was in the past. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

The Old palace, where the coming of age ceremony would be held:

All the noble families of Dorne had gathered to witness this important ceremony. Not merely to show their loyalty to House Martell, it was a chance for Elia to meet up with old friends that she had not seen in many years. However, while Rhaenys could blend in among the Dornish children without much trouble, the same could not be said for Aegon and Griff because they both had more pale ash-blonde hair color as a indirect reveal of their Targaryen blood, though Griff hinted to more light as a result of his biological father being from the Westerlands. 

“It is a little sad that Griff and Aegon had to tie up their own hair tightly to the head and use black-haired wigs in order to not make Lord Arryn realise that one of them could be the missing son of my first husband, but I promised that they would only need to wear the wigs when the guests from north of the Red Mountains are here.” 

Well, the black wigs helped to mask their eye colour too if anyone looked, Aegon now seemed to have dark blue eyes instead of his normal dark blue lavender and Griff sky-blue eyes, which was not so unusual for Dornish children with some blood ties from the rest of Westeros. 

True to her words, Arianne had dressed up in the closest manner she could do to the ancient fashion in Kemet. Her makeup was done as they had favored, and she wore pieces of jewelry that had been brought from the burial goods for Morgan and Mara in their tomb deep below the Sandship. Indeed, save for the curly hair that Arianne had inherited from her maternal kin and was her natural hair instead of a wig upon a shaved head, she looked like she had crossed time and world from Kemet. 

“You look stunning, my girl,” Mellario smiled tenderly at her daughter when the Martell heiress was ready for the ceremony, kissing her forehead as a sign of no matter how important Arianne would be as the next ruler of Dorne, she would always remain Mellario's first-born child for as long as they lived. 

“I am glad that you are here to witness this event, mãe.” 

Arianne used Mellario's native word for mother as a sign of how happy she felt that her parents had managed to stay together despite that their marriage was not the most happy at times. But Mellario had realized that she was needed in Dorne, not merely as the Princess Consort, during the years as the Martells had not known that Elia had ended up in Rohan with her children. 

“Arianne? It is time.” 

  
  


During the ceremony, Rhoynish in origin thanks to Nymeria bringing it to Dorne, was that the current Prince or Princess of Dorne would crown their first-born child with a smaller gold crown decorated with freshwater pearls and blue turquoise stones to symbol Mother Rhoyne as the river goddess. 

“We can not forget the past again.”

Now Doran handed his heiress the very spear once used by Mara, the mother of Morgan Martell. Because the spear was so ancient in age and no one knew if the passing of time had made the wood fragile to touch, they both were nervous about holding it for long by using a piece of cloth. 

“ **_I am Arianne Nymeros Martell, heiress to the Sunchair and the future Princess of Dorne. I am a descendant of Morgan Martell, the son of Princess Mara of Kemet! I swear to protect my homeland and family from whatever dangers that I will face to the best of my ability, while also never letting the past be forgotten again! This do I swear, in the names of those once lost, and to those who search!_ ** ” 

Only Doran, who stood in front of her, felt the passing hint of magic between him and his daughter as they both held the spear carefully.

  
  
  


Meanwhile, the Sultanate of Rûm: 

Suleiman was researching ancient texts about Khamûl. If he were to find a way to defeat his ancestor and make Rûm independent from the Dark Lord with a successful coup to make himself the next Sultan despite the official lie of him as a son of his foster father, he needed all the information that he could get his hands on. 

“Arnor, known as the Kingdom of the North for the Gondorians...seems like the Witch-King was the one focusing on leading the attacks there, and my ancestor remaining in the East so none of the mortal realms here broke away from the control of Sauron…” 

Glaring over at a small wooden chest standing in the corner of his bedroom, Suleiman abandoned the book for a bit and opened the chest, revealing two very ancient-looking bracelets in gold. 

“Well, progenitress Neith...shall we dare to try an attempt of localizing the descendants of your dear sister Mara, if her bloodline is still around?”

He felt something that could be called a feathery caress on his cheek, as the only hint to a response. Carefully putting on the bracelets, mindful of their ancient age, Suleiman revealed a tiny amount of his inherited magic. He knew that he could not do this for long, unless Khamûl somehow sensed him from where the Ringwraith might be in this moment and would realize that one son of the Sultan had escaped his spies inside the imperial palace. 

_ Blood of Princess Mara  _

_ Her current descendants _

_ Please hear my prayer _

_ And let me see her blood _

_ Still remain alive!  _

  
  


One part of the ceremony also involved the gathered members of House Martell kneeling together in front of a sea water-filled pool inside a small temple to Mother Rhoyne, and dripping their hands in the water as a sign of family unity. 

“Madre, something is happening in the water!” Rhaenys spoke up when she sensed a magic acting up. Then their own reflections vanished, and the water instead acting like a window, revealing a young man in his twenties who could have been mistaken for one of their own, save for the clothing he wore and the two bracelets that told them who he must be:

A living descendant of Neith, the other surviving daughter of Khamûl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it is year 3014 of the Third Age in Rohan in-story, I made a calculation just to ensure that I got the right number of years passed and yes, it is 4 197 years since year 2251 in the Second Age when Khamûl became a Nazgûl
> 
> Aegon and Griff having a pale ash-blonde hair is based on that the Martells likely having Dornish spouses that tends to have genes for dark hair and it is rather doubtful Mellario is the sole Essosi consort for the past three centuries, so I do not think they would inheriting the “true” Targaryen platinum white hair like the past three Targaryen generations since they have more fresh blood in their biological background
> 
> Indirect mention of the most likely realistic consequences of Petyr Baelish dying in the Battle of the Bells during Robert Rebellion; without his financial brilliance, the Crown is not doing too well economically given that the costs for the feasts and tourneys are bound to be high. Add in that with a lot of commoners dying in both Rebellions due to being ordered to join their lords in battle AND the Iron Islands being abandoned after that the all adult men were killed, all their sons aged over ten was sent to the Wall while all women, boys below the age of ten and girls was scattered across Westeros as serfs, taxes are bound to be lesser than before because so many adult peasant is dead and not all of them may have left a family behind to keep working on the farm. Also, the noble Houses are likely not realizing that they need to save on money instead by stopping whatever expensive habits that may drain on the family wealth, like those fancy extremely ornate armours for tourneys 
> 
> Recalling that I am using spring equinox in Rohan as the equivalent to New Year in Westeros? That is what I meant by Amanda is three months away from her birthday, and I headcanon that Arianne was born shortly after the New Year in 276 A.C 
> 
> Lysa is NOT turning into her canon self, she is merely acting out on Jon Arryn viewing poor Celia and Amanda as less worth because Celia is nearsighted (affects her schooling and social learning) and Amanda have Asperger's Syndrome, which would make the younger Arryn heiress viewed in the very ableism Westeros as lacking intelligence and be hard to marry off well into adulthood (like poor Lollys Stokeworth, who I headcanon to have autism)


	30. Descendants of the two sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Martells and Suleiman gets in contract with each other

In all fairness, Suleiman had not expected a portal to open. Magic was not that common in the bloodline Neith had birthed through her son, and very few magic-users were born at all in his paternal line, apart from himself it had been only one other prince over the past century and sadly that prince found himself killed at a young age when his magic was found out by the spies from Khamûl inside the imperial palace. Perhaps those rare births of magic-users were an indirect result of Khamûl becoming a Ringwraith and Sauron not wanting any of his descendants though Neith to draw his second most powerful servant away from the false life that the former Farao now had. 

“By the ancient gods…” he whispered in awe as he realized that he truly was not dreaming about the portal, understandable surprised over what had happened when he released some of his carefully hidden magic without knowing what could happen, feeling the crescent moon-shaped birthmark in his left palm somehow beating like his heart. 

Thanks to revisiting the memories of Mara from her life in Kemet so that they could properly decode the hieroglyphs that had been the writing system of Kemet, the Martells and their closest relatives now knew the otherwise dead language from the Second Age and while understandably not really fluent to speak it flawlessly after only a few months of studying and learning, they knew it enough well now to say basic words. That Suleiman now spoke in the same language, in a manner that hinted to that he knew the language but not fluent in it as if it were his mother tongue, confirmed even more that he was a descendant of Neith. 

“Are you...of Neith's bloodline?” Arianne asked, using the language as a test to see how Suleiman might react. Despite her accent, he seemed to realize what she tried to say, for none of the current Martells knew the current-day languages spoken in the East of Middle-earth.

“Is this proof enough, my lady?”

Raising his hands, Suleiman formed a water image of Mara and Neith playing together as young girls by using some water from his washbasin.

“My name is **_Suleiman,_ ** a prince of the House of Osman, the founder of our current dynasty here in the Sultanate of Rûm. It is through his mother that I am a descendant of Princess Neith of Kemet.” 

Doran noticed the small detail of that Suleiman did not mention his birth order, whatever he was the heir or not, which normally tended to be given to the oldest son or child. Could it be that the Sultanate of Rûm practiced open succession, where no son was chosen as heir but all of them had to prove himself worthy of the crown?

“Madre! Something else is coming!” Aegon warned, his gift of foresight giving him maybe a few moments of warning before they all heard that characteristic cry of a Nazgûl somewhere in the distance. Khamûl must have sensed the portal opening somehow, from wherever he was right now. 

“If he finds me, the heads of my infant children and myself will roll from our necks because I need to stay hidden from him!” Suleiman explained hastily, pulling off one of the bracelets in the hope that the portal would close before Khamûl saw him. 

Cursing at realizing this too, Oberyn did not even need to order the Sand snakes to take their younger cousins and sisters to run out of the water chamber while he helped Doran up on his feet. If now Khamûl noticed them, it was better to only let the adults be sensed. 

But for a moment, something else seemed to make Rhaenys act differently, since her eyes changed colour into amber. Quickly raising to her feet to grab a map of Westeros, a wax seal with the Lannister lion, a portrait of Tywin Lannister that had been used as a dart board by her cousins and a list where she in hieroglyphs had written down the names of Great Houses alongside their respective coat of arms and how their relation were towards House Martell, such as that Lysa Arryn was a friend of the Martells but not her husband for example, the oldest daughter of Elia dashed towards the closing portal. 

“ ** _Mightly Farao who once was my father in the past, give Tywin Lannister a taste of his own Rains of Castamere for trying to murder my mother and brother in this new life of mine!_ **”

It was not her voice, but rather that of an adult woman which was heard as Rhaenys threw the parchments into the portal right before Suleiman closed it by removing the other bracelet. The voice of Princess Mara herself. 

“Rhaenys, no! Do not make him find us!” Elia screamed as Théodred under some very foul language threw her daughter over his shoulder and fled with her along outside to where the others waited, fearing that Rhaenys might have done something that could go out of control. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

In the Temple of Shadows, Khamûl's focus on the strange magical trace suddenly broke when he heard the voice of his firstborn daughter. Mara, who must have been reborn in a new body if she spoke of a new life with a mother and brother. 

“ _MARA!!_ ”

Even as he felt the magical trace vanish, he no longer cared about that. No, instead his attention felt on the three pieces of parchment that had not been there on the floor before. And the wax seal with a roaring lion…

Using his magic, the former Farao brought the seal to his throne. As he touched the wax seal with a gauntleted hand, it was like the paintings on the walls became alive, telling the story of how Dorne had suffered under the Targaryen attempts to conquer them. How Prince Narmer Martell had to give up his heiress, Myriah, as the bride to the future Daeron II as part of the peace between Dorne and the Iron Throne. How Daemon Blackfyre rose up in rebellion against Daeron and his four half-Dornish sons by using prejudices against Dorne alongside his claimed love for Daenerys Martell, the Targaryen princess who had married Maron Martell. And how Elia married Rhaegar, only for him to betray his marriage vows with Lyanna Stark not long after that she had given birth to Aegon, starting the Rebellion that cost House Targaryen the Iron Throne. And how Tywin Lannister gave the orders that Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon were to be murdered because of their ties to Rhaegar. 

The vision ended before Khamûl could see if Elia and her children had managed to survive, but he had noticed one thing that none of the Martells could have known nine years ago: 

That Elia in her twenties was almost a spitting image in appearance to the founding mother of House Martell, unknowingly proving that they were relatives across the generations between them. 

“ _Mara...your descendants….!_ ” 

For all of that Khamûl had never been able to get a confirmation that Mara had survived, a small part of his old, almost faded away paternal instinct of protecting his family awoke for a short moment as his gauntleted hands closed and opened again, to let a amount of sand fall down on the Westerlands part of the map as a foreshadowing of what would soon strike them, once Khamûl found a way to unleash the same horrible drought and other kinds of natural disasters on the Westerlands that he had let the colonies of Númenor taste as revenge for the loss of his own realm and family thanks to Tar-Minyaur. That man with the roaring lion as his symbol would **_pay_ **for what he had done towards the woman who looked so alike his daughter. 

“ _And that damn Númenorian-looking female slave…it was her who I saw in that vision!_ ” 

Lyanna Stark would face his wrath again before he sent a curse on the Lion Lord, all because she and Rhaegar had started the chain of events that almost cost Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon their lives. 

“ _Iset!_ ” he called, letting the oldest among his current consorts hear him, “ _Summon your sister-wives, all of them, and the girls who hold enough magic to be possible candidates as their eventual successors, to the inner chambers! I want your gathered magic to join with my own and create a curse on a newly found enemy!_ ” 

The aging consort did not dare to protest the order she had just heard from her master. She knew that this was one of several reasons why Khamûl still kept having mortal consorts despite being a wraith, that he would seal their magic to keep them all under control and then at some point, use it all to strike down whatever fool that angered him. But to summon all his consorts and the young girls who could replace them when one of them died…

That was not a good sign. It meant that whoever that had been unlucky to provoke her master in some manner, would find his local power breaking apart by a wide-swept famine, the loss of whatever that he founded his power on and a declining number of people to rule over, as the common people would flee the lands out of hunger caused by starvation and the belief that their master was cursed for some horrible deed in the past. 

As she went to find her sister-wives, Iset pretended to not see when Khamûl brought a cudgel with him, or hearing the terrified screams of pains not long after when Lyanna found herself physically attacked by the Master of the Temple.

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

When no one of the dark aura could be sensed even after that they held a tense wait, the Martells began to relax a little more. And judging from her confused look at suddenly being outside, Rhaenys had no memory of what just had happened.

“I think we managed to escape from being found out…” Arianne whispered, hoping that this would be most dramatic to happen today. Coming of age was an important step in life, yes, but getting attacked by an ancestor fallen to evil did not mark the list of things she wanted to start her adulthood with. 

“Yes...let us hope for that,” Doran agreed, feeling drained by energy because the meeting with Suleiman had been so unexpected on both sides, judging from how the young man had looked surprised in a honest way about the portal. Hopefully, Khamûl would be too far away from his location to reach him in some manner. 

“Prince Doran! My lords and ladies!”

A servant came running, getting their attention. 

“The ship with Lord Arryn and his family onboard have just been spotted in the distance. They should arrive in about two hours at most if the winds keep up.”

Somehow, no one found it strange by what Mellario responded to those news: 

“Come on, everyone. Let's use the remaining hours before their arrival to take a rest so they do not notice if any of us may act a little like scared cats. And for the sake of us all, _do not breathe a word_ about what we just witnessed, we have enough trouble needing to disguise Griff and Aegon so their real hair colours are not revealing them and claiming that Elia and Théodred are distant kin of mine on visit here in Dorne.” 

The Princess Consort had a very good point, and a rest sounded really nice before they had to deal with the guests from north of the Red Mountains. Sure, Lysa and her daughters were most welcome, but the same could not be said about Jon Arryn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The meeting between Suleiman and the Martells may be short, but please remember the circumstances; IF Khamûl finds them, then he will undoubtedly kill Suleiman for being a prince that escaped his watchful eye despite that he is a descendant of Neith, and while the Martells are the bloodline of Mara, Khamûl is a servant of Sauron those days, so he may not show them any mercy because they would count as opponents now 
> 
> I named the father of Myriah and Maron Narmer Martell, after an ancient Egyptian pharaoh of the Early Dynastic Period. That way, he could follow the name plattern of House Martell with a name having either M, A or E. I also chose the name because even with the actual origins of House Martell becoming forgotten with time, names of family members from before Mors I may be reused in later generations 
> 
> Inspiration for how Khamûl finds out about the attempted Targaryen conquests of Dorne is taken from the nightmare that Moses have about the murder of the male infants from the movie The Prince of Egypt 
> 
> Given that Daemon Blackfyre did not raise in rebellion against Daeron II until a whole EIGHT years after that Daenerys had married Maron in 187 A.C, when both of them had been married long enough to have several children from their spouses, I honestly think that his claimed love for his half-sister was one-sided and that Daenerys may not have liked the idea of a bastard brother trying to marry her on the grounds of them both being Targaryens. Also, I can fully imagine that Myriah might have seen though Daemon's claims to loving Daenerys as merely a attempt to prove himself as the “favored” son of Aegon VI despite that Daeron II was 17 years older and undoubtedly already a father to his own heir Baelor “Breakspear” Targaryen around the time Daemon was born. Even with a not so well-liked Dornish princess as his consort, few could deny that Daeron would be able to have several children before Daemon even was old enough to marry!


	31. Omens of what to come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Arryns arrive at Sunspear, and something else happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got delayed in being written and posted because of the news that my RL maternal grandfather passed away from the high age of 92 years a few days after Christmas Eve. While I am grateful that he was not a victim from the corona, it is still painful to know that I will not meet him alive again and this was a most unwelcome ending of 2020 for my family. Thanks for understanding. // Rogercat

The two hours served as enough time for the Martells to rest before the four members of House Arryn showed up at the court in the Old palace. 

“Good, it helped to redo the makeup a little bit,” Arianne said after checking in a mirror so nothing seemed out of place. If she were to make Jon Arryn uncomfortable with her appearance given that he did not even know about Kemet, then she needed to ensure that it must seem like it was a new fashion trend she intended to start around the noble ladies of Dorne. 

“Ari, the Lord and Lady is coming now,” Tyene called, most of her female cousins now wore the same makeup as well, apart from the youngest ones and Obara, who never felt that she looked good in makeup and it was also linked to some unpleasant memories of Oldtown as well. 

  
  


Seating herself on a golden throne, the style being from Kemet just like her chosen clothing and makeup, in front of the two thrones where the ruling Prince and his Princess Consort was seated, all attention fell on Arianne, as well being a symbol of her as the future of Dorne. 

“Let the members of House Arryn enter, Manfrey,” Mellario requested to the Martell kinsman who was the castellan of Sunspear. Hiding themselves near the back of the throne room where Théodred's golden hair would not be noticed so quickly in the shadow of the stone pillar, Elia and her husband watched as Lord and Lady Arryn entered with their two daughters not far behind their parents, Rhyone walking right behind her little changes as something familiar to find if they felt scared. 

“You did not joke about the age difference between them. Not that I doubted you from the beginning, but both our own fathers look far more healthier!” Théodred whispered to Elia in her ear, in Rohirric to ensure that no one could hear what he said. 

“It is because both Rohan and Dorne frown upon gluttony outside holidays and big social events such as weddings when there are many guests to be expected.”

Lysa carried herself and her pregnant belly with pride, indirectly showing her hope for the unborn child to be sired by Tirwald by wearing a lovely green dress that suited her red hair and blue eyes well. In contrast, Jon Arryn looked like he wanted to be somewhere else, or if the heat of Dorne was making him uncomfortable, despite that Sunspear were next to the sea. 

“Oh dear, looks like poor Celia Arryn is not someone who can stomach sea travel well. Such young ones can get sea sick surprising well,” one of the older ladies said in sympathy, to which many nodded in agreement. Celia looked better now when she had gotten off the ship and possibly gotten some more ginger tea to stop her from feeling sick, but she still wore a faint look of unease on her face, as if she still felt the swaying of the ship below her feet. 

“Prince Doran.” 

As one could expect from a man in the same generation as Ihsan, Jon Arryn was not exactly the type to easily adjust to the changes around him. His power as Hand came from the fact that he had fostered Robert Baratheon in his youth, and he could not trust to live long enough to see Lyonel take the crown after Robert. Besides, the young Crown prince did not share the fondness that Robert had for his aging foster father, finding Jon Arryn just another dull old man that would not be around his own reign anyway. 

“Lord Arryn,” Doran spoke in response, his civil yet far from warm tone revealing which one among the four Arryn family members, that was not the most welcomed guest today. 

“What a joy to see you bringing your stunning wife and lovely daughters along, it is great for the next generation to meet,” Ihsan smiled, showing at once the difference between the two in personality, as well how they would act around the younger generations that was the future of Westeros. Lysa even had a faint blush at the honest compliment Ihsan had said. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Once the formal greetings was over, and the servants making the dinner ready on the tables, did Rhoyne take the chance to have a better look at her grandson and children. 

“You look so handsome already, Griff! Before I know it, you will be a grown man! Going to look so much like your late grandfather!” 

“Abuela, let go!” Griff protested with a whisper as she hugged him, mostly in worry that his wig might come off if Rhoyne made an unexpected movement around his head. Thankfully the wig stayed in place, and he made sure to prove himself having proper manners when Rhoyne introduced him to Celia and Amanda, for he knew that despite being born to a unwed mother, a illegitimate child could avoid having their future set in stone, Though just in case, Rhoyne pretended that Lemore had been widowed in the Sack, since that was easier for the two Arryn heiresses to understand at their age. 

“It is...nice to see that there are other children here,” Celia tried to say, her eyes not seeing the Martell boys and their Sand cousins clearly since they were a bit away, “it would not have been...pleasant if we were the only young ones at this celebration.” 

It was fully understandable that she had a little difficulty finding words, new surroundings and people that neither Celia or Amanda was used to. Both Holly and Rhoyne had also sent letters to Sunspear about that children visiting the royal court as the future ladies-in-waiting for the Baratheon princesses or as serving as pages before they would become squires in a few years, would not exactly be kind to Lysa's two daughters for various reasons when the adults did not see. 

Normally, guests from another Great House would be seated at the high table together where Doran with his wife, daughter, father and his siblings with their life partners was sitting. However, they had not forgotten that Jon Arryn was one of the main players in the Rebellion that made House Baratheon the new royal dynasty, and it was not like many others among the guests liked to have the Hand of the King present. Instead, Lysa was given a seat beside Ihsan, while her husband had to sit among the noble houses of Dorne and their daughters at the two tables where the younger generation was seated for the meal. 

“And Argella is really nice, nothing like the Queen…ah!”

Suddenly Amanda almost knocked over her cup of apple juice, and Aegon managed to catch the cup before too much of the drink spilled on the table. But as he handed it back to her, somehow the food dishes in front of him seemed to change shape: 

_ A massive swarm of locusts, so many in numbers that they darkened the sky while eating up every single leaf and stalk that was seen, leaving nothing of green left behind as they flew towards whatever next destination that would be plagued by them.  _

_ The rivers and wells suddenly running dry and the crops withered away in the fields as if the summer drought of the first two years of Aerys I reign had returned, in even greater strength than in historical times.  _

_ Starvation and thirst causing the smallfolk into desperation, joining together in huge numbers to attack the small keeps of landed knights that were not very powerful and storehouses of bigger settlements, in the hope of finding any form of food that was hidden away.  _

_ And whispers of one name, someone they had previously feared but now turned into a scapegoat for the horrible events because the drought was centralized on the Westerlands ruled by one man:  _ **_Tywin Lannister._ **

Aegon had no idea about it as he had never been north of the Red Mountains since that fateful day his stepfather had saved his future family, but his gift of foresight had just shown him the much changed landscape of the Westerlands wíthin a few months.

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

In the Temple of Shadows: 

To the best of her ability now in old age, Iset knelt so her forehead was almost touching the stone floor as her Master arrived. 

“Master, we have all gathered as per your wish.”

All the 23 current consorts were here, and the ten young girls who had shown signs of enough magic to be identified as possible successors to the consorts if Iset would not be the only one to leave her earthly life soon. Among them was Visenya, who could not be missed given how she stood out with her Targaryen appearance. 

“ _ Good. I intend to send a curse on someone who I sense to be an enemy, to destroy his power as a Lord. And for that curse to be as powerful as possible, I shall not only use my own magic, but I will unlock the magic that I have gathered from all my deceased consorts before you. _ ” 

Tuya was not the only one among the adult consorts who felt a legal amount of fear at those words. For their Master to unlock all that magic that could be felt in the Temple for those with the right sixth sense….something was  _ not normal.  _ He was not behaving as he normally did if Sauron sent some form of orders to create disorder among the Free People of Middle-earth. What was going on? Iset also had a nagging feeling that Khamûl was a lot more emotional than what she ever had seen him act like, but asking was out of the question because none of them knew how he would react if they questioned his actions now. 

“ _ Visenya, come here. You are the one who should unlock the barrier that I sensed earlier. _ ”

The daughter of Lyanna and Rhaegar obeyed, not showing her inner fear on her face, kneeling so Khamûl could place his hand on her forehead. At the same time as he unlocked all the gathered magic he previously mentioned around the Temple, his own dark magic flowed through Visenya's body, in every one of her senses and she would have screamed from the horrible pain had it been anyone else other than her Master in front of her. 

“ _ Sing.  _ **_Sing the song of destruction,_ ** _ girl, and let the Lion Lord hear the doom of his family for what he did to the bloodline of Mara. _ ” 

As the magic flowed into her, a magical seal appeared below Visenya, as her Targaryen blood was used to cross between the two worlds. 

“Master, please stop! She is only nine years old, she is too young to hold all this power as a vessel!” Tuya pleaded in fear at seeing Visenya start crying tears of real blood from her eyes. Given that she saw the girl as her adopted daughter, it was understandable that she felt terror at the scene she now witnessed. 

“N...no, mama! I must endure... **_for the ones who were forsaken!_ ** Abandoned and shamed, only to face death by the Lion Lord!” 

Her ability to see the past ran wild by the released magic, and she saw how Tywin Lannister refused Elia as a bride to someone of his brothers since both Jaime and Tyrion was much younger than her, and the resentment towards the late Aria Martell for that her daughter ended up marrying Rhaegar instead of his golden Cersei. And how he gave the order to murder Elia and her children once everyone belived that Rhaegar had died at the Trident. 

Obeying the order of Khamûl, Visenya sang some lyrics of a song that Tywin Lannister should be very familiar with, the Rains of Castamere which he created as a warning to those who thought of challenge him, yet she also altered them to become a foreshadowing of what would happen to his own family soon: 

_ Beware, Proud Lion!  _

_ Old friendship with the King  _

_ you repaid with betrayal! _

_ A daughter of the Sun _

_ and her two children _

_ You sought to murder! _

_ The crown of a Queen to _

_ Your Golden daughter  _

_ shall be repaid now _

_ Hear the cries of rage _

_ the voices of the people _

_ You so ignore!  _

_ Powerful, in bloodline  _

_ and might as Lord  _

_ Your power shall fade! _

_ A Doom shall come _

_ over House Lannister, _

_ brought on by your deeds! _

_ May the Rains fall over _

_ Casterly Rock, over the ruins _

_ that shall become! _

  
  


In Westeros, something happened with all the children sharing the blood of House Baratheon, no matter if they were the result of a legal marriage or born on the wrong side of the blankets. Their blood ties to House Targaryen, though Rhaelle, now acted as a guiding line from which Khamûl could find the blood of House Lannister. 

And he found it in Argella, Lyonel and Elinor, as well the still unborn child that Cersei carried as her newest pregnancy from Robert. Though them, thanks to who their mother was, Tywin was found thanks to the blood that joined them all together. 

“ **_Found you, Lion Lord. Enjoy seeing your power become little more than dust as your people soon will rise against you._ ** ” 

Again using Visenya as the vessel, Khamûl sent all the gathered magic though her blood acting as a portal. Even if she did not manage to hold all this dark magic for long, it was more than enough time for him to send a curse on the westerlands. 

“Visa!”

As soon as the magic seemed to fade away so the air no longer felt so thick to breathe, Tuya dashed forwards to the collapsed girl. To her inner relief, Visenya had just fainted from the massive effort, just like the other girls because this was the first time they had experienced their Lord's power as a wraith. 

“ _ She shall be Iset's successor as consort, _ ” was all Khamûl said, before leaving them without another word or compassion for what the women have just experienced.

In order words, Visenya was now tied to the Temple of Shadows for life even if she had been blessed with an appearance more commonly found in Rhûn so she would not stand out if she ever left, because only those with the highest magic could become consorts.

“Master… What caused you to act like this today? What made you send this curse?” Iset whispered for herself as she tried to get her trembling body under control, mentally praying to the ancient gods of Kemet that this would not come back to haunt them all at a later date. Whatever this was about, their Master clearly was more affected than that he normally would be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that Obara was born to a sex worker in a brothel and is not said to be a natural beauty, I can imagine that she have some unpleasant memories from early childhood of her mother possibly forcing her to wear makeup to “make her prettier” since if Oberyn never came to claim her as his bastard, Obara would most likely end up forced to be a lady of the evening as well
> 
> I have Ihsan and Aria being born a few months apart in 224 A.C, so they belongs to the same generation as Jon Arryn but their lives have turned out very different 
> 
> About Elia mentioning both Rohan and Dorne frowning upon gluttony: Rohan is dependent on a good harvest not getting ruined by bad weather and everything else that can be stored for a long time to survive the winter months even if there is no snow due to them being in the south of Middle-earth. Dorne is a peninsula with the only desert in Westeros, meaning that most of their fertile lands are along the rivers and coasts, so I think that gluttony in such a warm climate would not be viewed with kind eyes 
> 
> I have no honest sense of writing song lyrics, I fully admit it. But the scene during the song called “The plagues” from Prince of Egypt is a very fitting scenario for what Tywin will face soon


	32. Changing times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes comes in both Rohan and Dorne

Middle of summer, year 3014 of the Third Age, the Kingdom of Rohan: 

“Father, you wished to speak with me and Elia during this private ride?” Théodred wondered as he and his wife joined the King on a ride outside Edoras, with no one else in the family coming as well. That little detail was a hint to that it might be something serious not suited for younger ears. 

“Yes. Remembering that I actually sought out healers both in Dorne last year and in Minas Tirith when we visited Gondor the year before to formally present your children for the Steward? All of them have the same answer to why I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning and feeling stiff after a really long ride? I have  **_arthritis_ ** in one of my knees.” 

That was not good news in the long term, Elia realized. Her father-in-law was 66 years old, and while the Rohirrim could live well into their 80s and 90s if they were blessed with good health from birth, that kind of joint pain could seriously affect everyday life for those who suffered from it. Some days it would be worse, others not so bad, but it would be hard to tell what sort of day it could become. 

“You are thinking of handing over the crown to me, Feder, on the grounds of your health issues that you just mentioned. Few would protest it, if the war against Mordor may be only a few years away. And it is not like you could still serve some role despite no longer being the King.” 

Théodred could see the logic. He and Elia were both 36 years old now, adults since many years back and with their marriage resulting in two children, there would be a royal heir ready to take over the crown if something happened to him in the war, even if Aégnor and Andréth were still very young and Rohan had never had a underage King before during its 500 years of history as a Kingdom. But Éomer and Éowyn were also the backup heirs, as the children of his late aunt Théodwyn, if something went really wrong. 

“Yes,” Théoden admitted without shame, “it is better for Rohan to have a younger leader in what will come. The days may become darker because of the Shadow from Mordor, but  **_the sun shall still raise to give hope to those who despair._ ** ”

Elia did not miss the meaningful look the King gave her. Dorne may not have the same military strength before Robert's Rebellion anymore, but her family had promised to help Rohan in whatever they could. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

At the same time, back in Edoras: 

Since her brother was out on patrol with the other riders, it had fallen on Éowyn to check over how the weapon training was going for Aegon and the other boys in his age. Her cousin's stepson was no failure in his lessons on how to use a shield and bigger dagger acting as a miniature sword for children, rather he managed his defense very well, but everyone could see that his heart was not into the art of war. 

“Is it bad that...I prefer to be a healer over a warrior?” Aegon asked, between gasping for breath, as the training was finally over. He was not the only one who sweated a lot now after the training lasting the whole morning, their teacher not allowing them to rest much. 

“No, it is not. Fedra and his fellow old men merely want to ensure that you can defend yourself if you were joining a Éored that attacks enemies and you may even need to know how to kill an enemy in the middle of doing first aid on someone, during a battle.” 

Éowyn handed him a water skin so he could drink a little, then spotting Rhaenys in the distance where she was sitting on a wooden bench with a letter. 

  
  


Rhaenys had just finished reading when Éowyn and Aegon joined her on the bench. 

“Are it a new letter from Lothíriel?”

“Yes, her oldest brother Elphir is set to marry his betrothed lady from Minas Tirith this September. She thinks that the wedding is happening now so he may have a child if...he is fated to be among those who will not survive the war against Mordor.” 

A not very cheerful thing to talk about in a letter between penpals, indeed, but Éowyn knew that several other young ladies at the royal court here in Meduseld had also such thoughts. Thinking of trying to make themselves betrothed to one of their suitors and hopefully married next year, so they could become mothers to children that could ensure the survival of Rohan even if they became widows in the war. 

“Are you feeling pressured over that many of your friends are thinking about getting married?” 

Éowyn was nineteen this summer, counted as a legal adult since a year ago, and while her own mother had married at 26, Théodwyn had not lived with the doom of war hanging over her head. 

“Not really. I mean, not yet since your twin siblings are turning four in a month! And Éomer would not want me to rush into a marriage that may not last for long because of me or my bridegroom not having anything in common outside any children we may have, he asked me to let him carry the burden of a possible arranged marriage for the sake of the survival of the House of Eorl on his shoulders.” 

She did feel a little guilt over it, that her brother had offered to be the one of them to face an arranged marriage while she was free to marry for love, but Éowyn could understand his reasons. Éomer was to take up the position of the Third Marshal of the Riddermark this August, since at the age of 23 years, he had served as a Rider of Rohan under their cousin for five years and now had enough experience to take up the great responsibility that their father Éomund once had before he died.

“Sis! Sister Rhae! A letter from Abuleo Ihsan has come for Madre!” 

Aégnor came running with a letter in one closed fist with his twin sister arriving right behind with a slightly unhappy-looking Balerion in her arms. It seemed like the black feline only had agreed to playtime with them because he knew that Rhaenys was nearby. 

“How kind of you to try searching for your parents when the letter arrived with the message bird, I think they are still out with your ealdfæder on whatever that private ride will be about for them.” 

Rhaenys looked down on her letter from Lothíriel again. 

“Éowyn, I would like to meet Lothíriel again, at least once. She has only a few years left before becoming an adult by law and it would be harder for us to meet when we both are adults, especially if a future marriage is involved.” 

If Elia had heard her daughter in that moment, she would understand her feelings perfectly. It was a huge difference in being able to travel as you desired to meet with friends, for a married woman often had responsibility for the home and family that she created though the wedding. Many of the childhood friends Elia had herself, would also be married mothers now and she rarely got to see them often despite the portal because she was married to the royal family of Rohan. 

“I am sure that we can ask my fedra about it, at least.”

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Back in Sunspear, Mellario was looking over the latest letter from Lysa that had just arrived. 

“Oh dear, we need to pass this on to Elia as soon as we can. This is important news.”

Just as she had prayed for, Lysa had been blessed with a son by Tirwald not many days past. A healthy boy she intended to call Eorl as his true name, after the first King of Rohan, yet for now she would have to allow Jon Arryn to call his “son” Ronnel after his late brother unless she would be questioned about a such strange name for the male heir of House Arryn. 

“Oberyn?” she called after her brother-in-law that had just passed her open door, “It is time for your skills with poisons that can make the death look natural caused by illness. We need to make Jon Arryn join his two previous wives in the grave before little Eorl stops having that anonymously that all infants have the first weeks and people may start looking closer.” 

Lysa planned to nurse her son herself, she had written in the letter, so no wetnurse would be added to her household, but they needed to act quickly before someone might notice that little Eorl may not resemble Jon Arryn at all. 

“Poison? I have already something in mind,” Oberyn promised when he got to look at the letter as well. With Mellario starting to write a letter for Elia about the news so she could let Tirwald learn about his secret child with Lysa, he went to choose the poison that soon would end the life of Jon Arryn and make it seem like old age had finally caught up with the Hand of the King. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Théoden having arthritis in a knee is directly inspired by my RL dad, who is in his sixties and have that problem 
> 
> ealdfæder means grandfather in Anglo-Saxon
> 
> About that Éomer have offered to accept a arranged marriage while Éowyn gets to marry for love; he knows that his own firstborn son will likely be the next Third Marshal after himself, and as the Second Line of the Kings of Rohan was founded by Fréaláf Hildeson, the sister-son of Helm Hammerhand, Éomer also knows that in a worst-case scenario, he may end up as a King of Rohan himself (remember that this was his fate in canon!)
> 
> Elphir is the next-to-be Prince of Dol Amroth as the oldest son of Imrahil and Sita, and his own son Alpros is born in 3017 according to the timeline, so it is pretty logical that he would have married a few years before the War of the Ring if Alpros is a toddler during the war


	33. Plagues of the Westerlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation in the Westerlands grows worse, and something unexpected happens for the basis of the Baratheon reign

Year 292 A.C, a few weeks before the planned abdication of King Théoden: 

Thanks to the awakened magic, House Martell could now watch various events in Westeros beyond the Red Mountains better without needing to travel. Most often, it was by using some form of water as a mirror to see. 

“Hm...it looks like Holly has done a fine job with trying to make the Baratheon heirs have more common sense than wish for glory. I would not mind seeing young Lyonel on the Iron Throne within a few years, if he does not allow his future role to affect him too much,” Doran said as he, Mellario and their two oldest children were watching together what happened in the capital. Right now, they witnessed his younger cousin and the three oldest royal Baratheon children together on a more private walk out in one of the castle gardens because it was nice weather. They could hear Holly testing Lyonel and Argella about various tropics by her asking a random question and even change the following ones to challenge the children. Even Elinor got a few questions to see if she had been paying attention in the few school lessons she had currently at her age. 

“Somehow it feels like King Robert takes more of an interest in his children, even his daughters, as if he realizes that Westeros is unlikely to do well under a underage King with the Lannisters as the main Regents…” 

Arianne was not wrong. Many had also noticed that Robert paid more attention to his children since the previous year, and whispers spoke of how he did not just focus on Lyonel and one-year-old Tommen because they were the male heirs Cersei had given him, his three daughters would get their share of his attention too. 

“Lady Selyse looks like she will not have long before the birth of her second child, look at how big her belly is,” Mellario commented when they checked on how things were at Storm's End. There, Mya Stone and Brienne Tarth seemed to have formed a friendship over favoring masuline clothing over dresses and not seeing traditional pretty girls. Eric Storm had found a good friend in Devan Seaworth, the fifth son of the former smuggler Davos Seaworth, as the boys shared a birth year and likely would serve Stannis together as squires in a couple of years when they were older. As for little Shireen Baratheon who was three years old now, well, she loved her mother's pregnant belly, showing affection by hugging her mother even if others saw it and eagerly asked the embarrassed Selyse when her little brother or sister would arrive. 

“Um...padre, do you think that Tywin Lannister may actually end up demanding that Dorne sends disaster relief in the form of food that we honestly may end up needing for ourselves? I mean, we have the hottest climate in Westeros and even if this summer may still last for a few years, the harvest of various foods could be better needed in Rohan given the very possible war against Mordor that will likely happen soon or later,” Quentyn asked, looking like he wanted to say more but perhaps found it a little difficult to find the right words. Given his personality, this did not surprise his parents or sister. 

“Yes, Tywin Lannister is exactly the sort of man to try that, even using his daughter, Queen Cersei, as the way to get his hand on food and water that the Westerlands now are lacking more and more for each passing day. Look, the cattle that have not yet been emergency slaughtered, show signs of serious illness. I do not know the reason, but given what happened when your sister came of age, it may not be too far-thinking that something else happened as well when we saw Suleiman,” Doran said, thinking that even if they had managed to escape from Khamûl, some of the dark magic might still have slipped past them when the portal had closed. 

“More like that cousin Rhaenys caused something since she seems to be the current life of princess Mara, and given what Lannister tried to do nine years ago…” 

Rhaenys herself may not remember the events of the Sack of King's Landing very well because she had only been three years old at the time, but surely something inside her as _Mara_ must have been triggered, not merely for her prophecy foretelling the return of her descendants to Middle-earth. 

“Hold on...is that **_orcs?!_ ** In the Westerlands!?” Mellario suddenly gasped in horror when the water changed the scene, revealing what just happened to the entourage of King Robert as he was visiting the Westerlands himself to see the damage left by the drought. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Indeed, Robert had arrived in the Westerlands to personally make a judgement on the situation there, so Tywin did not send reports that exaggerated or claimed that the problems were even worse. 

“What in the seven hells?!” 

And now, right as his father-in-law was showing him one of the underground mines that somehow had been filled with sand and making it impossible to dig for metals thanks to all the amount of sand that would need to be removed by shoving it away before the miners even reached the deeper parts of the mine, something happened. 

“Your Majesty!” 

The same, strange creatures that had nearly killed his heir and two oldest royal daughters a year ago, Robert noticed in the middle of the fight, again proving with his use of his trusty warhammer why he had stopped eating and drinking so much at the royal tables each day and instead spent more time to get himself back in shape as the feared _Demon of the Trident_ as he had been named after that duel against Rhaegar where everything looked like the Targaryen prince had downed after getting hit by his warhammer and then no one finding his body because of that the rebel soldiers had done what was common after a battle; looting of weapons and armor from the dead bodies on the battlefield. 

“Damn it Jon, get back to a safer place! You are too old for battle now! Do you want to leave the world with only one surviving son from Lysa after losing all your previous male heirs?!” 

It was not the King speaking to his Hand, it was a former ward showing alarm for his now very aged foster father, since Lord Arryn was one of the oldest men present in the entourage. 

“I have no plans to let Ronnel remain my sole son for long…!?” 

Sadly for Jon Arryn, those words would be his final ones. An Orc arrow buried itself deep into the throat of the current Lord Arryn, ending his life in the same manner as Lysa could have found herself widowed a decade earlier during the Rebellion, only with the major difference that she now was left as a widow with three young children. 

“ ** _JON!!_ **” 

The sight of his foster father falling out of the saddle, seemed to drive the King into a rage akin to how he had felt over learning that Rhaegar had been brazen enough to lead the royalist army at the Trident, as he thought that if he just showed up from wherever he had been for several months, everyone would forget his disappearance with Lyanna and act as if it never happened in the first place. 

  
  


Finally, all the orcs had either been killed or were being hunted down by the knights in the entourage outside the Kingsguard members that followed Robert and the household knights coming along with Tywin. But Jon Arryn and several others had died as a result of the large group not expecting this sort of attack. 

“Damnit...Ned is going to hate that Jon has died like this…”

And Robert knew another problem that he also would face with this; that the office of being Hand of the King now was empty. Cersei would most likely insist on that her father would have the role, as he had been Hand to Aerys for twenty years. But with this drought in his own domains, Tywin might be more needed at home in the Westerlands than in the capital right now. 

“No, I need a new Hand right now, and Ned traveling from the North would take too long a time to arrive…” 

Really, this was not how Robert had hoped that the day would go. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

When Lysa learned that Jon Arryn had died, she perfectly played the role of a mourning, humble widow in public. A young woman with three small children, who was devastated that her aging husband had died without blessing her womb with another son before he died.

And of course, with Jon Arryn now dead, all the focus went to the three Arryn children, the two daughters Celia, Amanda and the little “cuckoo” Eorl, with his official name Ronnel, who was assumed to be the legitimate son of the dead Lord. 

“No,” she muttered at throwing away a letter over her shoulder, “I will not accept that offer of fostering my only son among the **_Lannisters_ ** of all people!”

A letter from Catelyn in Winterfell and given to her personally by Edmure when he arrived after the burial of Jon Arryn, offered the same idea, that the three Arryn grandchildren of the late Hoster Tully could be brought up with their Stark cousins in the North. 

“Am I selfish, Edmure, for not wanting to drag my daughters away from their friends among the royal children? And my son is still an infant, I would never forgive myself if he fell ill during the journey north and possibly died!” Lysa asked her brother, who was sharing some apple pieces with his two nieces because he wanted them to not be scared of this young man who shared the same colouring as their Mama but still was a stranger. 

“Selfish? No, not if you ask me. You have three wonderful children that now needs their mother, and Ronnel is the new Lord Arryn despite his tender age. Many other Lords have had their mothers as Regents if their fathers died when they were still young, so you would not stand out in that manner at all.” 

Edmure had visited the North last year, and personally he found Winterfell a little too isolated for his Arryn nieces and nephew to be fostered there. The ancestral castle and seat of power for House Stark may be the capital of the North, but the distance to King's Landing and the Vale, risked to make his Arryn nephew a stranger to his own subjects and bannermen, for all of that the Stark children would be close relatives. 

“Can I trust you with a secret, brother?” 

Raising to her feet, pushing her black lace veil out of her face, Lysa came close enough to whisper to Edmure in his ear: 

“ ** _I will ask House Martell to foster my children. My late husband was part of the new reign that could have done awful things to Elia Martell and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon, because of Rhaegar Targaryen. If my children are fostered at Sunspear, then they will remain in the South, but not in the hands of people that will harm or use them._ **”

It was an odd choice of a family to ask to foster her children, Edmure thought, but as a parent himself those days, to a toddler son named Axel, after the first known Lord Tully who founded Riverrun, he had a better understanding of how someone's personal feelings as a parent could affect different decisions and actions. Besides, Dorne was closer to King's Landing so it was not like Celia and Amanda would never meet their friends at the royal court again. A longer time traveling than before, yes, but Sunspear would not be isolated as Winterfell. 

“If Catelyn finds it an insult to the House words of House Tully to not have her own nieces and nephews to be raised together with her own children in Winterfell, then I can remind her that it is the same with the Queen and the children sired by her brothers so far. And I am not too eager to let Axel forget the faces of Lynesse and myself by being fostered out within a few years either. We are adults now, all three of us who are the surviving children of our father, and we all have our own growing brood of offspring to care for,” he summarized, referring to that Lynesse was also among the known pregnant high born Ladies who would have a new child this year alongside Selysa Baratheon and Queen Cersei. 

“She wrote in her latest letter that if you have a girl this time, she will be named after our mother Minisa,” Lysa smiled, grateful that her brother at least tried to support her decisions about the children's future for the next few years even if their older sister would not understand. In his crib, little Eorl began to softly cry as a signal to Lysa that he now had woken up and was hungry after the nap, so Edmure left the chamber so Lysa could nurse her baby son. 

“Oh, right. Before I forget; Stannis Baratheon has been named Hand of the King after your late husband, Lysa. Look forward to seeing harsher laws with him in office.”

“Rather him than one of the Lannister relatives of the Queen or King Robert insisting that Eddard Stark will have the office! Lord Stark may be a childhood friend with the King, but some limits have to be on given favors when such relationships are involved!” Lysa called after her brother, hearing him agree in the distance that Stannis may be a difficult man, but right now with the situation in the Westerlands, he could likely be the person best needed to avoid a rising number of crimes caused by the current events. 

  
  


Once he had finished nursing from her, Lysa held her son close. 

“You will meet _your real father_ as soon as we arrive at Sunspear, sweetie. By law you may be the son of that horrible old man, but you are born of love and he cares for your sisters as if they were his own as well.” 

In a secret letter from Tirwald, carefully put together as he was not that used to writing even if King Théoden and his father Thengel had tried their best to increase literacy among the nobles of Rohan, Tirwald offered Lysa a official betrothal between them though handfasting once her mourning year had ended, thus promising to wed her at a more suitable time and making Eorl legitimate though their wedding. 

In that way, Lysa may not be able to show openly in Westeros that she had remarried, but she would gain a very good reason to refuse other Lords and knights trying to woo the young widow of Jon Arryn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I tried to present a logical reason to why everyone thinks that Rhaegar is dead as in canon when he actually was teleported to Mordor though the water by the ancient Martell magic being awakened by Lewyn's dying breath; his body was NOT found at the Trident, but few doubted that he could have survived what looked like a fatal hit to the chest by the warhammer that Robert used 
> 
> And yes, Robert is slowly moving away from his fantasy of Lyanna, he has realized that he can not act as he always pleases or live in the past when Westeros has an economic crisis (Littlefinger died in the Rebellion in this AU, remember?) alongside this mysterious drought that seems to affect only the Westerlands and while he have a heir in Lyonel, his spare Tommen still only one year old and no one knows if Stannis and Selyse will have a son at the end of the next pregnancy 
> 
> As Davos is born in Flea Bottom and is a former smuggler before he was knighted by Stannis for smuggling in much-needed food to the defenders of the castle almost a year into the siege of Storm's End during the Rebellion,I do not think he would make a big fuss about his fifth son Devan Seaworth being friends with Eric Storm. After all, his low birth could very well mean that Davos too is a possible bastard, but born to a set of commoners instead and likely was orphaned at a young age
> 
> Handfasting is a traditional practice that, depending on the term's usage, may correspond to an unofficiated wedding (in which a couple marries without an officiant, usually with the intent of later undergoing a second wedding with an officiant), a betrothal (an engagement in which a couple has formally promised to wed, and which can be broken only through divorce), or a temporary wedding (in which a couple makes an intentionally temporary marriage commitment). The phrase refers to the making fast of a pledge by the shaking or joining of hands.


	34. The new King and Queen of Rohan, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rohan is preparing for a regime change

During the last few days before Théodred and Elia would become the new royal couple of Rohan through the abdication of Théoden, a lot of things happened in Edoras. The whole Golden Hall was cleaned from roof to floor everywhere, most of the expanded Martell clan arrived sans for poor Manfrey who must stay behind as the castellan of Sunspear, though he had also one personal excuse in that his first grandchild had just been born a few days prior as well and he hesitated about leaving his son and daughter-in-law behind in case said daughter-in-law suddenly grew ill as a warning of that the birth had affected her body in a bad manner. She was deeply loved in the family thanks to her sweet nature and the possible loss of his daughter-in-law in childbirth would be a hard blow to Manfrey's branch of the Martells. 

Even Lysa and her three children, who had now moved to Sunspear under the excuse of that the three Arryn heirs would be fostered by the Martells under their mother watchful eyes while she trusted Yohn Royce to be her voice and ears in the Vale during her absence, had arrived as important guests for the coronation and she would often be found beside Tirwald. 

“I think it is good that you intends to marry once the mourning year is over, and show how Rohan do not take lightly on relationships that results in children,” Queen Mother Morwen said when Lysa was presented for her by Elia and she got to see the baby boy that was the third known child with a parent from Westeros and the other from Rohan. 

“Feder and Modur would never let me survive their shared disappointment if I did not give my own child a good future, my Lady,” Tirwald muttered with a nervous side glare towards his father and stepmother in the other end of the Golden Hall, where they already seemed charmed by their future step-granddaughters despite the language barrier. That proved how Celia and Amanda could charm other people, if they were allowed to do it at their own pace without a lot of unspoken expectations of success. 

“And it proves that you are a person who does not escape your responsibility as a parent, unlike what I have heard from my granddaughter-in-law about how young men _of a certain status_ are allowed to behave because it is dismissed as just something that happens,” Morwen remarked, her barely-hinted frown telling of what her personal thoughts about the Westerosi views on the origins of noble bastards were. In Rohan, every surviving child that lived to adulthood was important, and in serious times like war, it did not matter which side of the blankets you were born on. as long as you could help defending Rohan as a male warrior or having children as a fertile woman. 

“The girls are valuable too, as future marriage partners and possible mothers. Bad eyesight and not having the sharpest of minds are not acceptable reasons to treat a child badly, not when they grow up and can hold a deep resentment against that person.” 

Laywyn herself may have remained unwed her whole life, but she had still witnessed how suitors could find themselves with a quickly-sinking numbers of women willing to accept a marriage offer if the suitor was seen as having too high standards of how a wife would be, or not behaving in appropriate manner towards a woman before they even was married. Demeaning her around others was often a sign of not showing respect for a future wife, and could become a perfectly legal weapon to call off a betrothal with. From what Lysa had managed to tell of young Harrold Hardyng, with Rhaenys acting as translator where the Arryn widow had difficulty with finding the right words, Laywyn noticed several different reasons for not letting Celia marry him if he continued with his current attitude towards her when they were old enough for marriage.

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

The next day, some very important guests from Gondor also arrived. 

“Boromir!” 

The future Steward of Gondor was not alone this time, he had brought his brother and their four maternal cousins from Dol Amroth as well. The dark-haired lady beside Elphir had to be his betrothed, because her clothing seemed more of what Elia recalled of the city fashion among the noble ladies in Minas Tirith than of Dol Amroth. 

“We thank you for inviting us for this event, Théoden King. The duties of our parents sadly prevented them from coming, so it ended up being us who got the luck to be the guests.” 

The King of Rohan welcomed his Gondorian guests warmly and once this formal welcoming was over, Rhaenys was showing great eagerness to present her 15-year-old penpal Lothíriel to her maternal cousin as she dragged her over to where the gathered children of Doran and Oberyn stood, yet Morwen proved herself still sharpeyed when she noticed her only granddaughter looked at the younger son of the current Steward and then hurried to look in a different direction with a faint blush on her cheeks. 

“Oh? Perhaps I may rejoin Thengel and our three deceased daughters with the news that I had the pleasure of meeting more members of the next generation after my surviving grandchildren…”

Even if she may not live long enough to meet any new great-grandchildren from them, the thought of seeing the surviving son and daughter of her own youngest daughter married within a few years still warmed Morwen in both heart and body in a manner that she rarely felt now in her current age. After all, surviving descendants was the blessing of any family, royal or commoner. 

  
  


Not long after, a group presenting the Wolf clan and some others of the more neutral tribes among the Dunlendings also arrived at Edoras, having gotten an invitation because they were trying to keep things somewhat less antagonistic with the Rohirrim for the sake of a more peaceful life and not starting a fight at an unexpected meeting. But something seemed to haunt those from the Wolf clan, for there was not the expected joy of being guests for such an important event among the men and women. 

“Master Burne, what is the reason for your people looking so sullen?” Elia asked carefully to the warrior she had met a few times, praying for that it was not a new conflict that had happened again between the tribe and some arrogant Rohirrim youths who should know better. Besides, Burne was one of those who could speak Westron reasonably well, even if his grammar was not the best. 

“Our son-less chieftain found his oldest daughter almost in the middle of being **_forcefully deflowered_ ** by someone who had been following her around despite her demands for him to stop. That bloody fool, shaming his Rohirric father Gálmód who had married a woman of the Wolf clan in the hope of creating peace, like that! That Gríma may have a way with his tongue, but using snake-like manners to make himself the husband of the girl and the next chieftain is not how one becomes the leader of our clan! No, he found himself without a head for this act.” 

Oh dear. Elia was not as familiar with the customs of the Dunlendings as the Rohirrim, but she could imagine that the rape of a daughter to the chieftain was a serious crime that would end with a heavy punishment. 

“I hope that the young lady was not harmed further, and that she will not grow terrified of men after this horrible experience.” 

Burne muttered something in his own language that likely was a curse of some kind. 

“Nay, but she will need a few more years in the house of her father before anyone else tries to offer marriage to her again. She is the oldest of three sisters, will be the one to marry first else people think that she can not get suitors for her hand.” 

Elia nodded, that was something most cultures would agree on. That if a family had many children, it was preferable to marry them off in the order of birth, else an older sibling may end up with reduced choices for a marriage. Marriage markets generally expected a certain group of ages for men and women when marrying, and those who were outside that age group could sometimes face a harder time to find a spouse, especially if they were still unwed and above the “typical” age for a first-time marriage. Widowers and widows had not the same problems, as they were allowed a little more freedom in their choices if they chose to remarry. Besides, an older sister would feel humiliated if a younger sister changed her social status to a wife before her and her own wedding may not be the same expansive affair as the one of said younger sister. 

“If your chieftain allows it, then please tell him that I would welcome all three of his daughters as my ladies-in-waiting for a year or two. Sometimes being away from the place with bad memories are the best cure for such an experience as she almost went through by force. Besides, if such an act can help to keep peace between the Rohirrim and the Dunlending tribes that do not wish to fight, then I will gladly try my best to help.” 

One of her duties as a queen consort was the act of intercession. In some political situations, it was injudicious for the king to appear to yield or capitulate., but a queen had the ability to intervene and moderate the king’s policies without him losing face. And Elia hoped to start a new era in the history of Rohan, to help unite the Free Peoples of Middle-earth here in those realms against Sauron when the war eventually came. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Taking the chance for one final ride together before this major change in their lives that would happen the following day, Théodred and Elia did not ride too far from Edoras because the twins would want to see their parents before bedtime. 

“It was kind of feder to have planned it to the end of August, so that Aégnor and Andréth could celebrate their fourth birthday without this overshadowing their special big day,” he said as they dismounted and let their horses grazing the grass while the married couple sat down beside each other. 

“Yes. The coronation of a new King is important for all of Rohan, so it was good to ensure that all the nobles could arrive at Edoras in good time. Since many of them will bring their wives and children as well to witness this historical event, they will not have the usual time to travel either.” 

She and Théodred had planned the coronation ceremony together as soon as they learned what his father intended to do, to hand over the royal power and title in Rohan to his only child. Elia knew that from tomorrow on, her life would be that as a queen consort of Rohan beside his side. Apart from a few minor details such as that Théodred would be crowned with a new crown partly inspired by the styles of Dorne, they would follow the coronation ceremony as had been done by the Kings of Rohan since the 75-years-long reign of King Aldor the Old, because his grandfather Eorl and father Brego had spent much of their own reigns to overlook the migration of the Éothéod to Calenardhon as Rohan had been called back then. 

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” 

Well, it would be strange if both of them were perfectly calm. Even with Théodred growing up knowing that he would take over the crown one day, the actual coronation would make it a reality.

“I feel more comfortable that I will be a queen consort to a man that I love and trusts, rather than having to worry about whatever crazy ideas that could be crafted in his mind.”

The very thought of remaining the wife of Rhaegar, after all he had caused thanks that damn idea of that he wanted to recreate the original Targaryen trio though his children made her disgusted those days, when she had been married to Théodred for five years, and known him for four years before they became man and wife in an official ceremony. The next summer, it would be ten years since their first meeting. 

“As regrettable that the Stark girl was made to end up sacrifice her life in the birthing bed, because of that stupid idea that you were barren after having Aegon, she did cause some of the trouble herself by running away from her intended marriage.” 

Eddard Stark had not managed to silence Wylla, the midwife who had overseen the fatal childbirth, and she in turn had told Lord Vorian Dayne of the events inside the Tower of Joy. Therefore, the Martells knew that Lyanna Stark had died from a post-term delivery and horrible blood loss caused by the dragon defects on the stillborn baby girl that Rhegar had planted in her womb. It was a horrible death, one which Elia would never wish on her worst female enemies, and a sad learning of that real life was not a song. Whatever the willful Lyanna Stark had hoped to do with her life by running away from her duties as a daughter of a Lord Paramount, born in a social status where arranged marriages was the norm and not being unhappy with your spouse was a goal since divorce was almost unheard off unless the man and wife chose to live separately, Elia did not know. 

“I did pity the stillborn baby girl, though, for what sort of life she could have had if she was alive and healthy. A royal bastard born from a mistress, and with Rhaegar as a father? No, it would be kinder for her to never have drawn the breath of life, or if she had been sent to the Faith as a silent sister to atone for the sins of her parents.” 

It was one thing to hate Lyanna Stark as the younger, more healthy-looking woman who Rhaegar had humiliated her twice with for everyone to witness, but Elia was not cruel enough to think that a child should bear the burden of the parents. Besides, she did not doubt that if Lyanna had birthed a son, everyone would think immediately of Daemon Blackfyre and what sort of legacy his bloodline had ended up causing for the following generations. 

“I am glad that I was able to offer you a much more happier life as my wife and the mother of our beloved children, than what you would have had otherwise.” 

Gently pushing away her hair from the face, Théodred kissed his wife on the mouth. And Elia returned the kiss to him with equivalent, if not actually more, passion. The thought of some tender lovemaking out here was not so horrible because they were sheltered from view by a nice little hill, and there was no one to disturb them for a few hours yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Lysa is using Eorl's young age as a legal reason to stay with all three children in Sunspear, she would likely choose a important and powerful noble in the Vale that is undoubtedly royal to House Arryn to rule in her stead until that she officially returns to be the regent for her son herself 
> 
> I imagine that Rohan and Gondor would contrast a lot towards Westeros in how bastards sired by nobles would be treated; If the parents are of the same social status and neither one is married to someone else, then the child will become legitimate if they marry. If the father is of higher social status than the mother and old enough to count as a legal adult, then he is by law expected to arrange some form of support for the child even if he and the mother may not have a lasting relationship. 
> 
> Well, since I am planning to have Éomer and Lothíriel hit off with each other during the coronation celebration, I thought that I might as well do the same with Faramir and Éowyn because of all the changes I already have done from canon! 
> 
> Burne is a Old English name meaning Stream and I tried to find one that could match the Dunlendings.


	35. The new King and Queen of Rohan, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coronation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while to write because of 1) the burial of the urn with the ashes of my maternal grandfather who died at age 92 a few days before New Year's Eve, 2) me taking part of a Valentine's Day-writing exchange in the Tolkien fandom, 3) writing a four-chapter fanfic as a birthday surprise for a fellow writer in Tolkien fandom and 4) both my RL parents are having their birthdays now in February. Thank you for being patient in your waiting for this update! // Rogercat

The following morning, it seemed like everyone was in high spirit. And no big wonder, really, a coronation was a big event and given that Rohan was an ally of Gondor, it felt extra important for the two sons of the current Steward and their four cousins to be there as guests. 

“Good to hear that Miss Rhaenys helped you by being a translator for yourself and her cousins when she presented you for them. It is good to try finding new friends and finding a way to make those secret alliances that we women often do in order to lessen some large-scale damage done by the ego or pride of men. Even a stepdaughter to an allied King is important in her own way, even if she is not sired by the King.” 

Lothíriel listened to her future sister-in-law Faeleth as she got some help in fixing the last details on her hair so her thick hair was gathered neatly in the long braid starting from the crown of her head and checking so her Anarkali suit did not tighten around her body in a way that did not flatter her curvy forms. 

“Adar said that I will not have to feel restricted to the Gondorian nobility for a husband. With the Steward marrying my aunt and his two heirs as my cousins, suitors will come for my hand but he would like me to help tying Gondor and Rohan together through marriage.” 

Faeleth listened carefully. She was not yet familiar with what the current Prince of Dol Amroth hoped for his only daughter, but she could see what it could be wise to use marriage in the hope that Gondor and Rohan would be connected by more than just the Oath of Eorl the Young. 

“Well, the Queen Mother is from a side branch of the House of Dol Amroth if I remember right. Sure, you can not marry the young Prince as a possible Queen consort because it is eleven years between your respective births, _but_ the new King has a cousin that is eight years older than you, Lothíriel. A sister-son to the abdicated King and first-cousin to his successor is not too bad of a match. And not only that, as a member of the three Marshals of the Riddermark that commands the forces of Rohan, he would be a powerful marriage match.” 

As a daughter of a noble who was one of several commanders of the armies of Gondor, Faeleth knew what she talked about. It was not merely this widespread knowledge of the military that had gotten Elphir interested in her, but Faeleth also came from a old noble bloodline that were of Númenórean blood yet its members were known for supporting the belief of being more tolerant to those not of Númenórean blood, which had helped a lot with any possible problems they could otherwise have with Sita as the current Princess Consort of Dol Amroth. 

“You think so?” 

Of course, with the height that Morwen had passed down to her descendants, it was rather difficult to _not_ notice Éomer since he was one of the tallest Rohirrim in Edoras, just like his uncle, aunt, cousin and sister. Lothíriel was still three years away from the earliest allowed age for marriage in Gondor for women, but nothing risky could come of a harmless infatuation which so often was a first learning step in love and romance. 

“If anything, try to enjoy this coronation as one of the guests. Especially as it is impossible to know if Gondor will have a King again.”

That was true, Lothíriel recalled. Many had more of less given up the possibility of Gondor getting a King again over the passing of time, for this very year marked 964 years since the last sight of the unwed and childness King Eärnur as he had rode past the gates of Minas Morgul where he undoubtedly met his death by the Witch-King of Angmar, and 25 generations since the Ruling Stewards had started to be the rulers of Gondor. 

“I will, no worry, Faeleth. I have both my brothers and cousins to come to my rescue if needed.” 

  
  


For her own clothing today, Elia had chosen a caftan dress made in dark orange silk and silver embroidery. The colours were meant to present Dorne, but on both sides of her skirt the white horse of Rohan had been carefully embroidered as a sign towards the kingdom that she would soon be the Queen consort of. With her hair set up in a half updo, her earrings and necklace would be clearly visible. But she left her head bare for the crown that she would be crowned with by her husband, because that was tradition for the new King of Rohan to place a crown on his wife as a proof of that she would rule at his side, and ruling as an equal regent if she became widowed while their son and heir still was underage at the time her husband joined his ancestors in the afterlife. 

“It is hard to choose when you looked your finest; at the wedding or today,” Théodred said as he took in the full view of his Dornish princess, himself dressed in the fine clothes that he had worn at their wedding but with some new details added to show his new status from today on. 

“I would choose when our twins were born, for that was a sign of the Valar and Mother Rhoyne blessing our union.”

Perhaps she was being biased given that she had spent nine years with Théodred, five of them as his wife, against her three short years as the wife of Rhaegar, but Elia would never change her thoughts now when she knew the differences between her two husbands: 

She would always end up choosing Théodred, because he had proven himself an honest person from the very beginning and proving himself to the royal prince that Rhaegar had failed to be in the long run. Compared to the very manly Prince of Rohan who had faced responsibility from an early age due to various circumstances, the Targaryen prince had been a spoiled airhead who had been born to too-young parents and treated as someone who could not do wrong. 

“Madre, Feder!”

All four of the children now come to show off their own clothes that would be worn on this important event, and Elia smiled in pride over the sight. Perhaps Aegon would never be King himself, and Rhaenys would never be a royal princess that was the sister to a King, but their promised future as nobles in Rohan was far better than what could have been. While still so young, only four years old since the first day of this August, Aégnor and Andréth also had a secured future. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

The coronation ceremony was simple, at least by Westerosi standards from what Lysa recalled as she had been one of the many important noble guests at the coronation that made Robert Baratheon the new King of Westeros and the first non-Targaryen King for nearly three hundred years. No big ceremony inside a holy building, no anointing of the new monarch with holy oils, yet it was fitting the culture of Rohan which did not have any big temples or other indoor places of worship for the Valar. 

Leading his court for the last time towards the large stone circle with the central altar, Théoden rode in the front with his sons and daughter-in-law right behind him, his grandchildren, nephew, niece, sister and mother following after them as a sign of belonging to the royal family. The important guests from Gondor being next together with the Martells, then followed by the other two Marshals of the Riddermark and Rohirric nobles according to their rank. 

“Théoden kyneg! Théoden kyneg!” 

While Théoden was the first known King of Rohan to abdicate, it was for understandable health reasons that many commoners around his own age could relate to, for even the position as King of Rohan did not spare the holder from health issues that could show up in a life where the King and his male relatives faced the same dangers as their people and many of the nobles trusted his judgment that his Kingdom would fare better with his son in change, for Théodred were a mature adult with all the experience he needed in his new role and married with a family as well. 

  
  


By placing his sword and own crown on the central altar, Théoden showed the Valar that he was leaving his Kingdom to the next generation. 

“I trust you, my son, to manage this burden with the faithful woman at your side. So kneel for the last time, and take the role you were born to.” 

Taking a deep breath to not not get a lump in the throat, Théodred knelt in front of his father so everyone could see the royal power formally being shifted by the crown that would be placed on his head. It was a new crown as per the tradition that each King of Rohan would have a distinct crown so future generations would know which crown that belonged to each King, crafted in steel and decorated with small fire opals, diamonds and emeralds in a circle across the middle as a tribute to Dorne and Rohan, the homelands of the new Queen and her King. 

With the crown now on his head as a sign of that he was the new King, Théodred rose carefully to stand in his full height and holding the crown that Elia now would wear as his Queen consort and she knelt so he could place the crown on her own head. Elia's crown was made in copper, and decorated in the same manner as her husband's. When she was helped back to her feet by him and both turning to face the gathered crowd, the people called out their new titles: 

“Hail, Théodred Kyneg! Hail, Elia Cwen!” 

With everyone kneeling for them, it was the starting mark of their reign as the eighteenth King of Rohan and his consort. Despite that it was not needed for him as a now previous King, Théoden still offered his own sword to his son as a part of his oath of fealty for the new leader. In return, Théodred gently helped his father stand up, mindful of the arthritis that the former King tried to hide because he did not want to seem weak. By helping his father back to his feet, Théodred also proved that he stayed true to his father by showing filial piety. 

“With my own son still a young child, I trust you to be the First Marshal of the Riddermark if I am injured in such a manner that I can not lead the Rohirrim, feder, if it shall not become a burden too great for you in the coming years.” 

By giving his father the authority to lead the Muster of Edoras if he could not due to illness or injury, Théodred made it clear that he still respected his father. Of course, by taking up the role of King, Théodred could no longer be the Second Marshal of the Riddermark, so he had to name someone to fill that role now and few saw a problem in him giving the highly respected noble Elfhelm this position. As Éomer already had taken the role of Third Marshal of the Riddermark some years ago, he therefore swore his oath of fealty to his cousin as such. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Naturally it was a great celebration after the coronation, with lots of food, drink and entertainment.

“Look, it seems like Padre have found a kindred spirit, perhaps about history or something such,” Oberyn said with a small smile to Doran when they spotted Ihsan sitting a bit further away with Faramir, and Éowyn acting as a translator because she had learned some of the language in Dorne from Elia and would be able to help Ihsan understand the Sindarin that was spoken in Gondor. But now it seemed like their widowed father let the two younger persons end up talking with each other, for the younger son of the Steward and the female cousin of the new King focused on each other. 

“More like trying to be a match-maker without showing it since he has a good eye for spotting when two people may suit each other even with different personalities,” Doran laughed, taking more of his wine. 

  
  


Where they were socializing with a few of the ladies-in-waiting that lived in Meduseld as part of serving Elia or Morwen, Mellario and Ellaria were also noticing things could become a little promising in the future. 

“If I am not wrong, that handsome young fellow talking to Arianne now is Daemon Sand. He has grown up nicely since they must have seen each other last.” 

Of course, Mellario was not worried about her daughter perhaps getting a crush on Daemon now seeing how he promised to look like an adult in a few years. If things went as intended, then Daemon would be able to bend the rule about not being a possible suitor to the future ruling Princess by being a bastard, because she had heard that Aldor and his wife Dewfled was talking about adopting Daemon for real so he would become a legal child by adoption and thus be able to marry Arianne while letting their firstborn be the heir to Aldor's ancestral estate without letting a possible succession confusion happen in the future. 

“Daemon have a good reputation despite his birth, and his commoner blood from his birth mother is yet another victory against the Targaryen inbreeding from Daenerys that the Martells have tried to suppress over the past century by marrying as distant relatives as possible or even adding in new blood as yourself, the other mothers to the four oldest Sand Snakes, myself and Théodred,” Ellaria agreed. The two women could see that Arianne almost seemed spellbound by Daemon when he offered her to be his dance partner, but they were also in an age where romance could be a tricky thing. 

“Well, she knows that we would not want her to be married yet. The age of eighteen at the earliest, as we told her, and preferable to a man that she will not regret marrying later when they have children of their own. Marriage is one of those big changes in life that is no joke.” 

Even at being counted as a legal adult now by law in Dorne and Westeros, Arianne knew better than rushing into marriage. Her future as the next ruling Princess of Dorne was already secured, and she had three younger brothers as her first heirs if anything should happen before she married. It would have been a different case if she had been an only child and had fewer cousins. 

  
  


Thanks to the merry mood created by the music, Lothíriel had joined others in dancing and now found Éomer as her partner for the next dance. Blushing at realizing who it was, she still managed to avoid tripping over her own feet. 

“I hope that this coronation has been pleasant so far, Princess?” he asked, showing the manners that Morwen had taught her five children and three surviving grandchildren to use when people from Gondor were around. 

“Yes, and I am very happy over being one of the guests. Shows one of the joys of having pen pals like Rhaenys and learning of the culture that Queen Elia comes from. She and your cousin are a fine pair together.”

  
  


Having danced together with their cousins and other relatives before taking a small break, Rhaenys and Aegon were now watching Éomer and Lothíriel together. She could see from his eyes that his gift of foresight could perhaps be acting up. 

“Are you too sensing that something important will come from them?” Rhaenys whispered in a soft voice to her brother, nodding towards the dancing couple as Faramir and Éowyn also joined the dancing. Rhaenys may not have the same magic as her brother, but the part of her soul that once had been Mara, the daughter of Khamúl, would still sometimes react to whatever Aegon would soon have a new vision. 

“ ** _Grandmother Rhaella will be reborn as the first child of Éomer and Lothíriel at the beginning of March in less than five years._ **”

However, Aegon could not explain why he had also sensed a massive feeling of _danger_ in that vision. Was it a warning about the future war against Sauron? Yet somehow, he knew that Helm's Deep would be the place. 

“ _Really?_ ” Rhaenys breathed in wonder, “then she will be given all the personal freedom and choices to live her own life as she wants, that she was denied as a Targaryen Princess and Queen! She will finally have a real family that loves her!” 

Without any doubt, the two siblings already knew, Éomer and Lothíriel would be the loving, supporting parents for the reborn Rhaella that the long-dead Jaehaerys II and Shaera Targaryen had never been to their only daughter. If there was any woman from Westeros who deserved happiness in a new life, it was Rhaella. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King is kyneg and and Queen is cwen in Anglo-Saxon 
> 
> As per my attempt of giving the various female characters realistic differences as well following that RL historical cultures across the world had different beauty standards (AND ignoring that Martin seems to favor modern beauty standards of slim female bodies), Lothíriel is going to be a plus-size biracial beauty 
> 
> I headcanon the Anarkali suit to be the formal dress for high-status women in the part of Harad where the ancestors of the current Princess consort Sita of Dol Amroth came from. Why did they leave Harad and ended up in Gondor where they were seen as Easterlings? A civil war between the followers of Sauron and those who did not want to follow him anymore. 
> 
> Since Elphir is the future Prince of Dol Amroth after Imrahil, I figured that I could try to give his future wife a name and some form of personality too, since Lothíriel is still going to be underage for another three years, meaning that she will not leave her childhood home yet and the fact that their son Alphros is a toddler during the War of the Ring. Faeleth is a female name that means “Just/Generous One” in Sindarin, which is spoken in Gondor


	36. The cost for old actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past events can still be felt many years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some true ASOIAF-themed character DEATH in this chapter. // Rogercat

The Westerlands, Lannisport: 

The summer heat did nothing to put an end to the drought that now haunted the Westerlands. No rains had fallen for months, and now reports came in that the commoners were slowly starving and many also beginning to die from illnesses, despite that Tysha and others did their best with charity that tried to help with the food situation. 

“Tyrion...is it really wrong to stop those who wish to leave? If they stay, they will starve even if the rest of Westeros sends food that your father pays for, and we have no way of telling when the water will return…” 

Her husband looked sadly at her with his black and green eyes, where they and Luke had just finished their nowadays very simple meal with only one dish, today a plain root vegetable dish that would _never_ have been served at the table of Tywin Lannister, to try and make the food last until Tysha had given birth to her second child. 

“I...honestly think it is better to let the smallfolk try to live in the riverlands and the North until that drought is over. If too many of them die because of the lack of food and water, then no one will end up living in the Westerlands soon.” 

Lord Tywin refused to let the smallfolk leave the Westerlands, but those who still had some strength to use so they could sneak away in the middle of night when the various knights and soldiers were not around, had quickly proven themselves a lot smarter than just submitting to those orders. More than once, the soldiers had been knocked out by heavy cooking pans or stones tossed at their heads, then either killed or tied up so they could not stop the smallfolk families from escaping. 

“I am glad to hear that, Tyrion, for I have been worried about what is going to happen soon. Your father is paying for food and fresh water to be brought, but most of it is going to the nobles and landed knights, not those who are in most need…” 

Some would have thought Tysha's thoughts strange, but Tyrion knew that House Clegane had only become landed knights when her grandfather lived and Sandor was the third generation. It was a young House for being the lowest rank of nobility, so perhaps it was not so odd that she behaved as she did. Anyway, for Tyrion, it had been something of an eye opener for how life was for those who were not of Great Houses or ancient bloodlines going back for many generations. 

  
  


Back in Casterly Rock, Jaime had been in the middle of a nap but now awoke with a gasp for breath from the nightmare that he had been having. A memory from the past, mixed with the trauma of his time serving in the Kingsguard and witnessing what horrors Aerys was able to do. 

“Damn Harrendal that started it all....!” 

How could he have been so fucking _blind_ at that time? Failing to see the long-term risks of his actions, all because he happened to overhear Lyanna Stark and her youngest brother loudly talk about the three squires who had beaten up one of the Stark bannermen and which one of them would try to mask themselves as a mystery knight? Young and naive, yes, still a mere boy who thought himself the best because of his natural talent for knighthood and the height of his family name.

“I was such a fool back then, angry at Aerys for not letting me stay at the tourney and keep showing everyone the skills that had earned me a place in the Kingsguard....” 

_The Knight of the Laughing Tree._ For Jaime, who had all the training of being a knight and knowing how to joust, it had been so easy to use his own, carefully saved pocket money to buy mismatched pieces of armour and dress up like a mystery knight because everyone expected him to be on the way to King Landing to protecting Queen Rhaella and prince Viserys as per the first order he had gotten as a Kingsguard member. 

“To think that I managed to escape being caught by pure luck, but that Rhaegar saw the Stark girl standing at the shield that I left behind, when she almost managed to see my face despite that I tried to dye my hair into a more common brown hair by using walnut shells as I once overheard some kitchen maids talk about when Tyrion and I was playing hide and seek near the kitchens…” 

No, that had really not been one of his better ideas in the long run, Jaime thought for himself as he ran his remaining hand over his face in memory of what it would cause later. It had led to Rhaegar mistaking Lyanna Stark as the true face of the Knight of the Laughing Tree and crown her as the Queen of Love and Beauty, when Jaime had only chosen the motive on the shield in a unspoken attempt to show the two youngest Stark children that he too knew of what had happened. 

“At least no one seems to know it was me, anyway…”

But Jaime had no idea how wrong he was. But to be fair, it was not like that person would have been able to come in contact with him anyway. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Rhûn, in the Temple of Shadows: 

Visenya had also been resting for a nap so she would not have to deal with the afternoon heat, but her ability to see the past had led her to see the event at Harrendal, and as a result, she had also seen who the Knight of the Laughing Tree was. 

“Foolish mother. Yes, it was wrong of those squires to attack Howland Reed, but your damn insistence on justice would have a chain of reactions that you had no way of guessing…” 

She did not blame Jaime Lannister for acting as the mystery knight, he too had been idealistic and somewhat naive about the cost of his actions. No, for Visenya the whole event at Harrendal was more of a insight of how idiotic both her parents had been in the past. 

Just outside the northern wall of the Temple, laid a burial ground. Here, the slaves of the Temple were laid to their final rest in simple pits deep in the desert sand, with no grave goods and no gravestone carrying their names. In death, they were as nameless as they often would be in life. 

“You ended up paying for your past actions, mother, and the Master showed no mercy.” 

In front of Visenya, was a grave marked with a carefully made wolf head made out of small stones as the sole proof of where Lyanna Stark was buried. On the day when he had acted so strange, and using the blood of Visenya to send that curse on Tywin Lannister and the Westerlands, Lyanna had been beaten to death by Khamûl with a cudgel. She had died for the second time after a long afternoon spent in the agony from her injuries and terror of the wrath from the Ringwraith, just 25 years old, nine years after the first death that she had suffered in the Tower of Joy. 

“You will soon be joined in death by Father. He does not have long left to live.” 

No, Visenya had seen what had happened to Rhaegar after that he crossed the two worlds. How he had ended up as a male courtesan in a brothel somewhere in Mordor where he found out the hard way that no one treated him as a prince anymore and just a another sex worker selling his body for the pleasure of customers, a slave like so many others there, and then made to work in the fields because he no longer was worth selling to customers. 

Perhaps she was becoming cruel in her own way, but Visenya had never been in a position to help either one of her birth parents. Lyanna refused to take her responsibility as a mother already before her daughter was born, eventually finding herself a mere slave here in the Temple while Visenya found herself better cared for by the Consorts. Rhaegar was in Mordor, and she had seen in her past visions that he would only have viewed her as a new coming of the original Visenya, when her actual personality was somewhere closer to her ancestor-queen Naerys, a religious person who followed the otherwise extinct religion that once existed in Kemet so long ago. 

“I would have made a fine Silent Sister, at least, rather than a Septa. Tossing away my life as a royal bastard, born from a northern mistress who would never have accepted a feminine daughter who followed the Faith of the Seven when she herself was more close in personality to the original Visenya...” 

Leaving the grave of Lyanna behind her, Visenya wondered if she would be able to give her maternal uncle Eddard Stark a good scare though his nightmares at some point in the future. Without doubt, he likely carried some guilt over not being able to save his sister but this half-Targaryen niece of his had not forgotten that the current Lord Stark refused to bury her original stillborn body with dragon-like birth defects in Winterfell beside the original body of Lyanna, but rather just made her a small tomb near the Tower of Joy, as if he wanted to forget that his sister had died in childbirth with the offspring of Rhaegar. 

“Perhaps I can scare my cousins as a ghost in the crypts of Winterfell too. It is not like House Stark has been spared from their children dying at a young age, after all.” 

With those plans in her mind, Visenya was in a much more cheerful mood although her smirk would have been alarming for anyone who saw it because she would smile similar of the Master of the Temple somehow, back in the days when he still had a mortal body and felt pleased over killing the Númenorian invaders and destroying yet another port city in one of their colonies along the Eastern shores of Middle-earth. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

The following morning, somewhere in Mordor;

Today was one of those feared health checks on the slaves who worked in the fields to grow enough grains and other crops to feed the armies and workers. If you were found showing signs of an infectious disease that could be passed over to the other slaves, then the response was usually swift and brutal. 

“Is there anyone still in the tents for sleeping?” a huge, battle-scarred orc growled, the whip at his side showing him as the overseer of this large field. One of the slaves who had just been passed the health check even if he understandable was thin from being underfed, felt bold enough to raise a hand so he could answer the question: 

“That former courtesan, the pale one…” 

Yes, the very slave that the orc overseer had noticed to not be standing in the line alongside the others. Barking an order to keep checking the slaves for possible illnesses, the overseer went himself towards the small group of sleeping tents where the slaves would be at night. 

  
  


It did not take the overseer long to return, with a body tossed over one massive shoulder. 

“Stuck down by the “nose-eating disease” from a customer or two who had been visiting some cheaper streetwalkers, huh? No wonder you were not worth selling anymore as a high-class courtesan in that fancy brothel!” 

As he tossed Rhaegar on the ground, the Targaryen prince was but a mere shell of his former self not even a decade earlier. His hair was chopped unevenly with a knife, which still did not hide how tangled and unkempt it was nowadays, and four years since his last hair wash made it hard to guess his actual hair color. He was thin, but not merely from underfeeding and overworking in the fields, there was just no way to hide his pale skin covered in rashes and sores, as well that his face was slowly starting to become deformed with his nose being little more than a gaping hole now. Just as the manager for the brothel with the male courtesans had feared and was the reason he was sent to work in the fields instead, more than one of the garrison soldiers had infected Rhaegar with syphilis during the gang-rape, which had began to show itself over the past four years as he had been here in the fields. 

“What...do you...want….” he tried to say, his speech uneven as a sign that the disease was also affecting his brain. But all the clear signs of him having syphilis, already marked Rhaegar for death since this sexual disease was not curable and would soon make him a burden, unable to work for the small food he was given everyday. 

“Get him on the wagon with the others who have shown signs of illness.” 

  
  


In his froggy mind that was slowly being destroyed by the illness, Rhaegar was just barely aware of someone dragging him along the stony ground. Yet he could feel a strong heat in the air, and that feeling against his skin seemed to awake him somewhat from the mists clouding his eyes. 

“Father…?” he whispered, somehow imagining himself back in front of the Iron Throne where Aerys was seated. Rhaegar could not hear what his father was saying, but the gathered pile of firewood with a stake in the middle told the meaning that he was not hearing. 

“Father, no! I have not betrayed you! Lyanna Stark is pregnant with a new coming of Visenya! My children will lead Westeros against the danger that lies beyond the Wall!” 

Against the orcs who pulled Rhaegar, with his hands bound on his back, forwards towards the crack in Mount Doom where he had sensed the heat from the lava, his attempts of resistance were useless. Also, his half-confused, quickly terrified-sounding pleading for Aerys to spare him was spoken in High Valyrian, a language that none of them knew. For the orcs, his prattle-sounding words merely meant that he had gone mad with terror at seeing that he would soon find himself falling to a death by burning. 

“I am you son! I am your son, your firstborn…! Mother, mother, please stop him...mother!”

But the ghostly image of Rhaella in front of his eyes merely turned around, cold as ice and when looking over her shoulder, her purple eyes were filled with an emotion aimed towards himself that Rhaegar never recalled her having before. **_Loathing._ ** The last Targaryen queen looked at the miserable form of her first child, and even if she had been alive instead of a ghost, she would still do nothing to help him. 

_You did nothing to stop my imprisonment in Maegor's Holdfast when you had the chance to do it. Nor did you treat Elia with respect and loyalty as you should have done, and desired more children than what she could give you at the time. Your children, Rhaenys and Aegon, are seeing another man as their father in all but blood, and Elia is far happier with her second husband than what you could ever make her. Now pay the final price for your selfish actions, that you tried to justify by your reading of old scrolls!_

Horrified over her words, Rhaegar opened his mouth to protest, but it was too late and the ghost of Rhella vanished like she had been just a memory image in his mind. A push in his back sent him falling face down into the lava as the first one of the ill slaves to be put to death in this manner, and his screams of pain were quickly cut short when his body sunk into the molten rock to be burned alive. 

In a cruel twist of irony, despite that he had been several years older than his parents by being almost 21 years old at his marriage to Elia, Rhaegar died at the age of 33 years, five years younger than his mother Rhaella and six years younger than his father Aerys. And since everyone in Westeros believed him to be dead since almost a decade ago, no one therefore knew the truth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime as the true identity of the Knight of the Laughing Tree? YES!! Because Lyanna was a 14-year-old teenage girl at Harrendal, and the Knight is mentioned to be a tall man with a deep voice. The existence of sword fighting and riding skills does not necessarily confirm the existence of jousting skills. Even if she had actual training, this would be the first real test for her skills. As a novice in jousting, her victory would be far from guaranteed. Same for Benjen, who is YOUNGER than Lyanna and would logically not even have entered puberty yet. Brandon would likely have a better chance, but could have been revealed as the mystery knight if he was called up for the next round under his real name right after, and Ned honestly does not strike as the type to do something like dressing up as a mystery knight, even with his sense of honor 
> 
> You can use walnut shells to naturally dye hair into a dark brown colour, and that is what Jaime used to hide his revealing Lannister golden hair
> 
> And yes, Khamûl did kill Lyanna on that day when sending the curse on Tywin Lannister. Because Rhaenys is the reincarnation of his daughter Mara, and the vision showing the actions of Lyanna and Rhaegar, Khamûl punished Lyanna with death for nearly getting his reborn daughter killed though running away with Rhaegar, despite that it was Tywin Lannister who sent Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane to kill Elia and her children


	37. Unseen dangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things are not well in the royal household of the Red Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who dislike how Barristan Selmy comes off as a creep about the teenage Ashara Dayne in his memories of Harrendal and how he did NOTHING to help Rhaella in her abusive marriage, this chapter is hopefully very delightful to read. // Rogercat

Roughly half a year into the year 292 A.C, King's Landing, the Red Keep: 

Robert knew that he and Cersei were not happy together in their marriage, even if he tried to be a better husband than what he previously had been, but not even he was cruel enough to ignore that she clearly was not in good health laterly. He did not recall her looking like this during her previous pregnancies, at least, and the servants had confirmed that the Queen had never been ill in this manner while carrying the other royal children. It was as if the drought of her homelands somehow affected her as well, stealing her energy and just made her bad-tempered pretty much every single day now over something minor that often made no sense. And the way she kept drinking goblets of wine, eventually becoming drunk… 

“How is the Lord Commander?” 

But Cersei was not the only one who looked visibly ill laterly. The Kingsguard members had mentioned that Barristan Selmy was haunted by nightmares at night that did not allow him any rest, and more than one of the maidservants had run away screaming in terror from the chamber where Rhaella Targaryen once had been living in. 

“...worse, Your Highness, he is so exhausted from lack of sleep that he would risk collapsing on his post if he left the bed.”

Robert himself was not a believer in ghosts or anything such, but no one had a logical way of explaining those mysteries in the Red Keep. Curses? The maesters insisted that magic no longer existed, but Robert did not doubt that there were a lot of people who desired harm against his family, old royalists who once followed the Targaryens. 

“Need to train with Lyonel tomorrow...promised him that today…maybe even try to give the girls some new fabrice to get new dresses for their dolls...”

The king had almost nodded off from boredom over that the small council once again came into the subject of the strange drought in the Westerlands, but suddenly he was forced awake by a shrill scream in the air: 

“ _YOU ARE NO TRUE KNIGHT, BARRISTAN SEMLY!! YOU WERE SWORN TO PROTECT EVERYONE IN THE ROYAL FAMILY FROM HARM, YET NONE OF YOU_ _COWARDS STOPPED AERYS FROM HARMING ME!!_ ” 

A female voice, yet it was not Cersei having one of her tantrums whatever she tried to demand something from him. 

“What in the seven seas?!” Stannis exclaimed, for once looking just as shocked as Robert felt. Then another scream was heard, and the two Baratheon brothers dashed towards the door. 

  
  


On the way to the throne room, several terrified maidservants ran past their king and Hand, acting as if they had not even been there. 

“Queen Rhaella! The last Targaryen Queen is here as a wraith!” 

As much as the Baratheon brothers did not believe in ghosts, they suddenly realized something; that Barristan Semly was the only one left of the Kingsguard for Aerys outside Jaime Lannister. 

“Robert...did you order another member of the Kingsguard to guard Cersei?”

No, he had not, Robert recalled. Barristan would always guard Cersei at this time every seventh day, unless he was ill in some manner. 

“Damn it!” 

  
  


Inside Maegor's Holdfast, the royal children had also noticed that something was not normal. Therefore, Lyonel and Argella quickly closed the door to the nursery, locking the door in the hope of keeping their mother and siblings somewhat safe. 

“No, Mother! Mother, do not come out from the nursery!” Lyonel responded to the sound of Cersei slamming her fists on the other side of the thick oak door, ordering him to let her out. Trying to ignore the very foul name-callings about them showing themselves truly being the offspring of Robert, Argella glared towards the Queen chamber, where _something_ was attacking Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. 

“ _Craven! CRAVEN, CRAVEN WEAKLING!! YOU SWORE TO PROTECT WOMEN AND THE WEAK AS PART OF YOUR OATH AT BECOMING A KNIGHT, YET YOU BROKE THOSE OATHS WHEN NOT STOPPING AERYS!!_ ” 

Valuable luxury items of Cersei were aimed at his face, his helmet somehow getting knocked off his head, and the royal twins could see invisible nails clawing on Barristan to leave bleeding lacerations. Was that invisible attacker aiming for his eyes? 

“ _WHAT?! LOSING YOUR DAMN TONGUE, SER BARRISTAN THE_ ** _COWARD?!_** **_ANSWER ME, I AM YOUR QUEEN!!_** ” 

Lyonel trembled in his whole body from fear over the sight, and Argella could not blame her brother, feeling scared herself. They knew of how Rhaella Targaryen had been treated by her brother-husband in the last years of their unwanted marriage, and without doubt, Rhaella would hold a deep grudge against Barristan and the other Kingsguard members of that time for not saving her. 

“ _Since Jaime was kind enough to leave me a widow, I will let him be. But you, ser Barristan Selmy, lost your honor as a knight the very first night as you did nothing to stop Aerys treating me as he did!_ ” 

In horror, they saw how Barristan suddenly began to grow blue in the face, his gloved hands clawing at his throat as if something was choking him. And there was nothing Lyonel and Argella could do to save him, only a fool would risk their life to further infuriate a revengeful spirit. 

“Cersei! Children!” Robert was heard calling in the distance, just as the wraith vanished into thin air. But even as the King and the Hand arrived to defend the royal children and the Queen from whatever danger that could be present, there was nothing to be done to help Barristan. 

“What...is going on laterly?” Robert muttered for himself, seeing how the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard clearly had died from suffocation yet there were no marks on his throat to explain a possible death by strangling or something inside his throat that could have blocked his breathing. 

“Your highness! The Queen has gone into labour!” one of the nursery maids called out, making Stannis open the door and they all saw Cersei laying on the floor, holding her stomach as if she was in pain. Cursing, Robert ordered that the body of Barristan Selmy would be removed so Cersei could be brought into the Queen's bedchamber for the birth. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

On the dawn of the following day, a new Baratheon prince was born, yet he showed clear signs of being sickly even if he would be lucky to survive. And just like his cousin Rhea Baratheon, the second daughter of Stannis, the distant Targaryen blood made itself a clear reminder: 

Even with the clear features from both House Baratheon and House Lannister as proof that he was a legal son between the King and Queen, the pale golden hair was almost white, and his eyes were like a blue lavender.

Yet for Cersei, the sight of this son seemed to trigger something. Her eyes widened in open confusion at first when she was handed the infant for her first holding of him, and then into clear anger. 

“ ** _REMOVE THIS FREAK OUT OF MY SIGHT! GET IT AWAY FROM ME!_ **” 

To the horror of everyone in the room, she even threw the baby away from her, and the little prince would have risked to crack his fraile head against the hard stone floor, had not Holly acted quickly because as the septa in change of the royal children, it had been natural for her to be present as well. 

“Cersei! What are you _doing?!_ ” Robert yelled over the terrified cries of the baby, grabbing his wife by the arms before she tried anything else that could risk harming the newborn. 

“How dare you make me pregnant with a **_mockery_ ** of House Targaryen!? Father promised, he promised that I would be wed to Rhaegar and be his queen!! I would bear his children instead of that Dornish whore!” 

She was ranting nonsense in his face, as if she somehow had lost her mind. The mention of Rhaegar caused Robert to feel how his anger raised, yet at the indirect mention of Elia Martell, he also recalled what Ned had said to him in the throne room after that they had learned of her mysterious disappearance with her two children sired by Rhaegar:

“ _Princess Rhaenys is only one year younger than Mya._ ” 

Instead of physically harming her for the words she just said, Robert instead chose to simply hold Cersei still long enough for Holly to escape with the infant. 

“ ** _I_** ** _do not like the idea of locking you up like how Queen Rhaella was by Aerys, but you are not giving me any other choice, with how you almost came close to killing our shared child right now. You are staying here, until that you can be trusted to not harm our youngest son or any of our other children, Cersei._ **” 

Her behavior was out of control, and Robert was no longer blind to how she acted around the royal children. Her dotting on Myrcella and Tommen could be explained by that she was just happy to no longer stick out like a sore thumb by being the only blond in the otherwise black-haired royal family, but he had also noticed how she would ignore Lyonel, Argella and Elinor. Paternal favoritism was one thing, but to act as she did… 

“No,” Cersei said in open denial, as if she had not even heard him, “I am the Queen, not some whore you can just bed and then throw away! I am the Queen and the daughter of Tywin Lannister!” 

But Robert would not change his commands. The midwives were given enough time to clean her up after the birth, and then Cersei was quickly sent over to the Maidenvault, basically finding herself locked up until that he could trust her to not try to do the same thing again. 

  
  


In the royal nursery, Holly had managed to calm down the newest prince after how close he had come to death thanks to his own mother, the chosen wetnurse had given him his first milk and he was now sleeping in the cradle once shared by his older siblings. 

“He looks just like cousin Rhea!” Elinor commented when she peeked into the cradle, recalling what her uncle had mentioned of his second daughter. 

“Aemon,” Robert finally chose as the name for his third son, after looking soundlessly for a long time into the cradle, “for the Targaryen Prince who wed Jocelyn Baratheon and was the father of Rhaenys, the Queen who never was, and the Dragon knight.”

It was a name that was not solely limited to the disposed House Targaryen, some of their names were not unusual to give to sons and daughters in other noble Houses of Westeros either. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

In the Temple of Shadows, Visenya felt exhausted as she opened her eyes to see herself surrounded by worried faces of her peers, the other young girls who showed promises of having magic and possibly be chosen as Consorts to their Master as well. 

“Visa, you did not wake up earlier when we tried to check if you were really deep asleep or even unconscious. Did you find yourself in an unplanned spell or something such? The Consorts have forbidden us to try anything like that without them around, the Master will be angry!”

The scolding was not intended to be mean in nature, only the result of worry and fear that something had happened to Visenya without any of them noticing it. 

“I helped the spirit of a deceased lady to take some long-awaited revenge on someone who should have protected her better while she was alive. You can not hold the epithet of being called “the Bold” forever, if you end up proving yourself unworthy of it later in life.” 

It had actually been her who had killed Barristan Selmy, by using the hate and feelings of betrayal from her paternal grandmother Rhaella that still existed inside Maegor's Holdfast. Rhella's faith in the Kingsguard had been broken when none of them stopped Aerys from abusing and raping her, so it was only natural that she would not think of them as true knights anymore. 

“Oooooh, hope that the lady spirit will feel better afterwards! Come on, we must hurry to the dining area for breakfast and then get ready for the lessons in weaving today!”

Yes, today they would learn how to weave the black robes that their Master wore, if they were to become the future Consorts then they had to know how to make those robes perfectly. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

To the relief of those who feared that Lyonel and Tommen would remain the only royal princes of their generation unless Robert made Cersei pregnant again, Aemon survived the critical first days outside the womb and then the following weeks, yet there was no doubt that he would be sickly, both as a child and a adult. 

“I am sure that we can find a way for him to feel useful outside being a knight,” Holly promised her older royal changings when Argella proved herself a very well-trained big sister and was able to calm down Aemon whatever he cried because he did not want to be alone. 

“Yes, perhaps a scholar of some kind, like the former Prince Consort Ihsan Joydayne of Dorne!” Lyonel agreed, making Elinor pull on his west and asking what he might know, because as far as everyone knew, she was still formally betrothed to Quentyn Martell, the grandson of Ihsan though his oldest son Doran. At the tender age of two and one year old, Myrcella and Tommen were still too young to pay much attention to their older siblings. 

  
  
  


Yet as the following months passed, Cersei did not seem to change her behavior from the day she gave birth to the third Prince. The maid servants reported to Robert that she would often stare into nothing, muttering about that she should have been wed to Rhaegar instead. Some days she went into a massive temper tantrum, throwing things on the walls and screaming that she wanted to see Joffrey, the stillborn son from six years ago, and trying to command that she was the Queen and would _NOT_ be treated like this. After only a few weeks, Robert refused to let the royal children meet Cersei, because far too often she did actually try and harm them physically. Especially her two oldest daughters and the Crown prince. 

“Did something happen with her the same night as Selmy died? It is like she is possessed by a demon or something…” 

Yet even without Cersei, a female leader had to be found at the royal court, as Chief Court Mistress. After a long look on a list of suitable noble women, Robert ended up choosing his own cousin, the widowed Lady Emma Estermont, who had lost her husband during the siege of Storm's End, but had been married long enough to have a son of her own, the young Owen Estermont, a few months before Robert had wedded Cersei.

“I am hoping that Cersei will calm down soon, her last pregnancy was not...kind to her in various ways, I have been told,” he told Emma when she arrived at court to act as the Chief Court Mistress until further notice, basically replacing Cersei in nearly all the official duties of a Queen sans for sharing bed with the King and bearing his children. 

“Cousin, her pregnancy with Prince Aemon happened at the same time as this mysterious drought has fallen upon her homeland. Her twin brother is crippled without any of the former strength he once had only a few years ago. And if it is like she mentioned, that Tywin originally hoped to wed her to Rhaegar Targaryen, perhaps even praying for that Elia Martell would die in childbirth with her son Aegon in order to make the widowed Prince need to remarry after the customal period of state mourning, then it is no longer that she may have felt that Prince Aemon is a mockery of what she once thought her life to become.” 

As a mother herself, Emma Eastermont had a few personal, unspoken guesses about why Cersei acted as she did. But it was well known that Tywin was not the most warm person or a father to openly show that he was proud of his children. Perhaps spending nine years in an unhappy marriage where she was constantly pregnant, and feeling like she was only useful as a pretty breeding mare, was the cause for why Cersei acted as she did now. 

“Thank you for allowing Owen to become a page at court, cousin. I am sure that Prince Lyonel will be happy to have more people around, and a few possible friends, that are not Lannister relatives.” 

With Emma Estermont as the Chief Court mistress, the Lannister influence at the Red Keep sunk even more with Cersei locked up in the Maidenvault. As expected, Tywin was furious over the news that his daughter had acted so illogical against her newest child, but he could not leave the Westerlands now because of the uprisings that started in various places over lack of food distributed to the poor, and the still present threats of the strange monsters, aka the orcs from Moria, that kept popping up in the mines that they tried to clean from all the sand in order to keep delivering precious metals to weapons and other items. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About why Cersei acted as she did with newborn Aemon; she basically snapped at the sight of a son that outside the Baratheon features from Robert, looked like how she imagined a possible child between her and Rhaegar. She has also been affected by the curse Khamûl sent on Tywin, with the intention of ruining Tywin's legacy in a lot of creative ways. If Cersei were to become known to have gone insane after not even a decade as Queen, then his dream of having his golden daughter as Queen would be tainted beyond repair 
> 
> Rhea Baratheon is the second daughter of Stannis and Selyse, born in chapter 10 of the side-story Young stags, lions and falcons that focus on the child OCs in Westeros. She is the reincarnation of her own great-grandma Rhaelle and share the Targaryen colouring as well
> 
> Emma Estermont is my name on the in-canon unnamed female Estermont cousin of the Baratheon brothers who was indeed widowed during the siege of Storm End. It is mentioned that she once slept with Robert at some point, but I imagine that she feared how Cersei may react on her getting pregnant with a royal bastard and chose to make a abortion because in this AU, she had a infant son to think about
> 
> Chief Court Mistress is the title of the senior lady-in-waiting in the royal courts. With Cersei currently locked up in the Maidenvault to prevent her from doing any harm to her children and neither she or Robert having any sisters or alive mothers, it would likely fall upon the Chief Court Mistress to take over the duties


	38. the passage of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lot of things changes in ten years

Year 3015 of the Third Age was an important year for Elia and Théodred. Not only did it mark the first year in their reign as the King and Queen consort of Rohan, it also meant that ten years had passed since that fateful day when he had saved her, Rhaenys and Aegon from a horrible death by the order of Tywin Lannister, all to ensure that his golden Cersei got the crown of a queen. 

“A spear may be a strange choice to celebrate the passing of time, but it works for you, my dearest King.”

Elia had commissioned a new spear for her husband, made in study oak for strength. and he in turn gifted her a new dagger for self-defense. 

“Even a simple dagger can become deadly with a lucky strike, so I thought it could match how Westeros keeps underestimating Dorne, besorg.”

She liked the meaning behind his choice, and found it indeed suitable to her homeland as well. Honestly, Elia would not surprised if Arianne or her niece's own successor, hopefully the firstborn child of Arianne unless she would find herself with the second child as heir for some unfortunate reason, would somehow find a way to break away from the Iron Throne and make Dorne its own independent country again. 

  
  


Yet things were not all well even if they would desire differently, reports of more orcs trying to steal any black horses they could find was not uncommon now, and it was without doubt a sign of what would come within the next few years. 

“How is your father, Elia? Is he still being ill?” 

Since a few days past the vernal equinox this year, Ihsan had started to show more and more signs that he was no longer a young man. His asthma would often act up, and he remained often in bed when he felt too tired to do much outside reading and writing on whatever he was working on. 

“He is...better for now, but I am not sure if we can trust that he will still be alive when we celebrate fifteen years together.” 

In all honesty, Elia would prefer her father to be allowed to pass away peacefully in sleep before the war against Mordor happened. Ihsan was 69 years old this year, and had witnessed a lot of events where the crown had to fight against uprisings and the sort. After all, how many widowers in his very limited age group could boast of having gotten his newest grandchild only two weeks before? 

“Loreza, after yet another Princess of Dorne before the Conquest, we could trust my brother to choose strong names for the daughters Ellaria have given him!” she thought for herself as she recalled the whole family waiting together to give a welcoming arrival of her newest niece. 

_ Sixteen! _ Sixteen grandchildren in total from Doran, Elia and Oberyn since that day when Oberyn had slept with Obara's mother in Oldtown and starting the growing line of grandchildren for their parents. No doubt that her late mother Aria would be smirking in pride somewhere in the afterlife as well, agreeing with her still living husband over the joy of the future for their family, happy over that she was blessed with five grandsons and eleven granddaughters, for all of that the eight daughters of Oberyn were born on the wrong side of the blankets. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

A few days ride away from Edoras, a different scene was happening: 

Despite being the daughter and widow of two different Lord Paramount, even Lysa was surprised by how well she had adjusted to the very contrasting lifestyle in Rohan, since she now was formally betrothed to Tirwald through a handfasting ceremony at the coronation and expected to marry in September once the harvest had been taken care of. As such, her future father-in-law had suggested that perhaps she actually had lived somewhere in Middle-earth in a previous life, and how this may be the reason to why she could feel so out of place in Westeros. 

“Imagine the confusion over the different lifestyle, the religion and the expectations that you were trained to live up to. Even if your soul did not remember your previous life, I think a personality could still be affected in some way even in the following life.” 

That... was surprisingly logical, Lysa agreed when she got to think it over. Here in Rohan, neither Celia or Amanda was treated differently for their handicaps. If they could still be useful in some way, then they would learn a craft that would help them survive. 

“Granny, granny, show us more of the knitting, please!” Amanda was heard requesting Tirwald's stepmother where she was sitting with Celia and Amanda in the corner of the hall where the spinning, weaving and sewing was being made, and the older woman sounded like she could not hide a smile at the request. 

“Eorl, no! The fire is not a toy,” Tirwald scolded their son gently, pulling the boy away since Eorl once again proved that he refused to be still now when he had learned the art of crawling. Smiling as her betrothed watched Eorl so he did not come near the hearth again, Lysa opened the newest letter from Edmure, which had arrived with a messenger rider from Sunspear not even an hour ago.

“Oh dear. One important military commander in Westeros became another addition to the growing numbers of Westerosi killed by the orcs that tends to show up randomly in the mines of the Westerlands, not someone serving my brother but one from the Reach.” 

Lord Randyll Tarly was a bit unexpected, though, but Lysa guessed that he had thought himself a survivor after living through the Rebellion that put Robert Baratheon on the Iron Throne and the failed rebellion that put an end on the Ironborn culture as well. But orcs were not humans, they would not fight in the same expected manner. 

“Is it good or bad for the alliance between Dorne and Rohan, Lysa?” 

No, it was the Reach who lost one of their finest military commanders and would suffer his absence if they would end up needing to gather an army again. From what she knew, ten-year-old Samwell Tarly was his father's exact opposite in character, and should his younger brother Dickon take after their now late father or wanting to leave their home Horn Hill once Samwell was married with a family of his own, well, the Reach would have to wait until that he was a legal adult to test any skills of the younger Tarly son. 

“Oh well. Might as well see this death as a sign of the changing times. Two major rebellions only seven years apart cost a high number of lives in battle, and the drought in the Westerlands is also affecting the whole of Westeros despite that many may not wish to admit it.” 

Her latest letter from Catelyn mentioned all the refugees from the Westerlands that arrived to the North in the hope of building a new life there, and how Eddard Stark was a bit at a loss in how to deal with this whole situation. Yes, he did not like the Lannisters, but on the other hand, he wanted to avoid being accused of stealing the smallfolk that belonged to the Westerlands. 

Well, Lysa did not care what her sister and brother-in-law ended up doing. She was busy making a new life for herself and her three children here in Rohan, under the protection of House Martell. Far away from Westeros and their drama. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X 

Since becoming the new ruling couple of Rohan, it was not as often Elia and Théodred could come to Sunspear and the Old palace where the Martells lived. But their four children could still do that, eager to be with their maternal relatives at chosen times across the year. 

“Abuelo, abuelo, wake up.” 

Aégnor gently poked Ihsan on the arm, to see if he could wake up his maternal grandfather from the nap they all had taken during the afternoon to escape the heat of the sun. 

“Mm.” 

The former Prince consort moved around as a sign of waking up, though he did not feel for leaving the bed yet. Most of the daytime nowadays, he tried to not tire himself out too much in various ways. If this was an unspoken message from his beloved Aria that he would soon join her in the afterlife, then he would not resist. Death came for everyone at some point, after all. 

“Abuelo, can you read for us?” Andréth asked sweetly, holding up a picture book of Ihsan's own making that was rather well-used now after so many of their older cousins. 

“I see no reason why, if you could just bring me a few more pillows to lean against, it would be comfortable for us all.” 

The royal twins of Rohan went to the task at once, Aegon offering to bring some cold drinks since his half-siblings could still sometimes become lost in the palace if they were unsure of where they might be. 

Then Ihsan realized that one of the children born from his daughter was nowhere in sight. 

“Rhaenys? Where are you?” 

A soft singing revealed her to be seated in the shadow out on the balcony to his bedchamber, and the lyrics well the adult voice, hinted to that ít was Mara who temporarily had taken over the body of her current reincarnation. 

“I knew it. I have heard the ancient holy songs to the Gods of Kemet in the winds coming from north of the Red Mountains.  _ Some of my siblings, born to my father's other consorts and concubines, have been reborn in this generation as well. _ ” 

That surprised Ihsan, who had long stopped expecting things to make sense ever since the reveal of the true origins of House Martell.

“If I may be allowed to ask, Princess, then where?” 

Rhaenys pointed on a map of Westeros on the opposite wall, and some faint golden spots arrived by some small use of magic: 

Four in King's Landing, and then five others at the Stormlands, four in Storm's End and one at Tarth. 

“ _ Four of the six royal children. Their four Baratheon cousins both in and outside the marriage bed, alongside the oldest daughter of House Tarth. _ ” 

Oh, great. Ihsan could already imagine an incoming headache over this new information that the founding mother of House Martell had been able to sense. Yet somehow he was not surprised. The portal which had enabled his second son-in-law to save Elia and her children from death ten years ago, had undoubtedly been a sign that Mara would soon be joined by a few of her once-siblings again a new life. 

“May Mother Rhoyne protect them from dangers, then. For I dread that they may be dragged into the coming war against Sauron.” 

Rhaenys looked at her grandfather, her black eyes still amber as a sign that Mara would not let go of the body really yet. 

“ _ The descendant of Neith will help you all in some way, I am trusting him. _ ” 

The communication with Suleiman was rare, because of the risks of being found out by Khamûl, but he had allowed the Martells to know that he intended to rebel against Sauron and come to the aid against the Dark Lord, if only he could match the timing well. 

“May your trust be well-founded, Princess.” 

Rhaenys eyes returned to their common dark colour and she blinked slightly, confused over why she was out on the balcony instead of sleeping in the bed as she last recalled. 

“You sought out the cooling winds from the sea as you sleep-walked for a few moments, sweetling,” Ihsan told her in a calming manner, and she was satisfied with that statement. In a way it could very well be true, it was a very hot day so everyone sought out shade and some other way to cool down. 

“Abuelo, Rhaenys, here are more pillows and cold drinks for all of us.” 

Soon the others among the younger Martells and Sand Snakes arrived as well, Eliana even carrying little Loreza from the nursery so the newest family member would be able to hear the tales while still asleep, and Ihsan spent the rest of the afternoon in a manner that he always had enjoyed over the years: 

Treasuring every moment he could have with his living children and grandchildren, since he did not know when his time here in the living world would come to its end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ihsan and his late wife Aria Martell, the former Princess of Dorne, is both born in 224 A.C, so he would be pretty old in this pre-modern setting 
> 
> I intend to do a few time-ships again in the coming chapters because I want to get closer to the start of the War of the Ring soon, starting with year 286 A.C where a major “first meetings” drama will happen at Winterfell with the Stark kids, their Arryn cousins and the royal Baratheon children because Robert wants Argella to meet Robb before their actual wedding


End file.
